


Watercolour

by vacantb



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacantb/pseuds/vacantb
Summary: Summary: Percival takes-in Credence as a foster case and doesn't know how to handle his own emotions.Excerpt:The more Percival stared at the photo of Credence, the more he felt the need to know who he was; the boy’s story and what lead him back to Mary Lou’s menacing grips. He takes another photo from the file, this one with Credence’s eyes staring directly at the camera, the hospital background and time stamp showing this was only a week ago. The swelling of his black eye gone down but there was something in Credence’s eyes that reminded Percival of himself in his youth—the unruly hunger for a better life.“All right,” Percival sets the photo down, “When can I meet him?”





	1. The Barebones Case

**Author's Note:**

> I decided that I'm trash and want to give a shot at this pairing with my own idea's in mind.  
> Sorry if it sucks but thanks for giving it a try!  
> Please comment and kudos this, it helps me a lot, you're giving gold/jewels to a small Niffler in need!

Watercolour  
  
-  
Gavebone; NC-18+; Modern-AU; Summary: Mr. Graves never expected Credence Barebone as his newest Foster case, and he certainly didn’t anticipate the challenges that follow Credence’s rare magic.   
  
  
  
  
On most occasions, Percival Graves would have denied Tina Goldstein from entering his office, but this instance felt necessary. It was the seriousness in her tone when she called him the day before, the urgency she had with needing to talk to him; to see him in person. Normally she would call within a week’s notice to have a meeting, Tina was always aware of how much work consumed Percival. Even back in their university days, she knew very well his dedication to business. So it made Percival extremely curious as to what the matter at hand was, that resulted in Tina’s abnormal behavior.  
  
“Graves,” Tina acknowledges him with a particular stare that roiled more of Percival’s curiosity. She had a certain stride to her walk, complete intent on making her presence felt in the large oval office space. As she made her way towards him.

It quirked a curious brow from Percival’s normal glower. “Tina,” he replies back from behind the large metal desk. He rests his chin on one palm as his right hand signs official documents of a corporate account, he had new assets to seize and deals to be completed before noon. But Percival would always make time to hear Tina out, she was one of the few people he ever kept contact with after graduating.

Tina makes her intent clear as she sets her suitcase on his desk and brings out a thick file. “I wouldn’t have called you yesterday if it didn’t have your name on it.”

This statement alone makes Percival lean forward, he quickly looks at the file then fixes his sights back to Tina, “What exactly has my name on it, Tina?”

“It’s an orphan case,” she breathes out, “They gave me the case file and the only person experienced enough to house this boy is you, Graves.”  
  
“Don’t tell me…”

“They made up their minds on this one, Graves, his case is still being investigated as we speak. He needs a mentor, a person that he can depend on and trust; a teacher, someone like you.”

“Did you convince the entire department that?”

Tina flushes for a moment, “Graves, don’t flatter yourself that much. Even I was against them placing the boy in your care initially… considering how busy you are.”

“Ah,” Percival contemplated on her words. It was true that he was busy, but it’s also been a near decade since Percival accepted a foster case into his home. “He must be a rare case then…”  
  
Tina’s eyes perk up as she cannot withhold the glint in her eyes, the hope he will fully accept the foster case. Unlike Percival, whom had master the art of not giving away his emotions, the ruthlessness of Wall Street and corporate affairs had taught him very well. Emotions were viewed as weakness in the work setting, but seeing Tina look more and more distraught as she explained the foster case, Credence Barebones’ life, it was becoming difficult.

“Credence Barebone…” The name sounded oddly familiar in his head. “Wasn’t the Barebones investigated for housing too many kids…?”

Tina nods, “He’s the eldest in the family, the only blood relative to Mary Lou Barebone. We broke the family up before, about three years ago when the abuse scandal came out in the department. But she lured the boy back in from his previous foster family.”    
  
Mary Lou, **ah** , he remembered her name now. The woman that had a church condemning magical children in The Bronx, condemning the foster system that ensured so many abandoned children from non-magical homes were taken care of. Percival resented people like Mary Lou, after all, he invested into the Foster System to help get it started to begin with. He poured many tireless hours at meetings, talking up plans and investors to give these children a better chance in life.

Even bringing up Mary Lou’s name brought back memories from fifteen years ago, Percival witnessing The Magical Congress inability to sustain the amount of magical children born in poor areas of New York; children that couldn’t afford to be sent to a wizarding school, or for that matter, couldn’t afford to have their magical gifts. Children born gifted with abundance of untapped magic, but rejected in dogmatic fearing families convinced their children were cursed; these children were orphaned or sold off into black markets. Congress had to do something to stop the influx of abused, orphaned children slipping through the cracks of a failing system and to diffuse the rising tension between non-magic’s and themselves. That’s where Percival’s many connections and ties to both non-magic and magic corporations and business’ became a vital asset to the creation of the Foster System.    
  
At the measly age of twenty-five, Percival proved to be a powerful business leader and powerhouse among the non-magic and magical business worlds. Seraphina had entrusted so much into Percival, which he felt he had aged far too quickly from becoming her peer. She led the political ends of the magical word, being the president of MACUSA she was able to bridge many loopholes and governance that Percival had no time for, and he led the business side; all of this for the sake of keeping magic children off the streets in New York.

As if Tina knew Mary Lou’s name brought back unabashed memories she clears her throat, “She beat him senseless, if you would’ve seen him…” She stops herself as her hands shake a little, “He just got clearance from the hospital two days ago, he’s still there resting. He got accepted into the Academy of Arts, he’s a bright boy, Graves.”  
  
Tina became a personal long-time friend of Percival’s, the only person that never desired a single superficial thing from him, only his honestly and friendship. She always had a silver tongue and a sharp wit but the biggest heart, it came as no surprise when she asserted herself into the second lead in the human resources department for the Foster System. Percival couldn’t picture her anywhere else other than helping bring justice to magical children and protecting them. The children were assigned to magical families or those with a suitable background in the magic realm to care for the kids. Tina would investigate and gain clearance before seeking the arrangements for the children.  
  
“How old is he?” Percival asks, finally opening the file to see the first photo of Credence, it wasn’t in color, but the obvious black eye on the right side of boy’s face disrupted his usual cool demeanor. The mushroom cut hair, the sallow in his cheeks; the blatant starvation that was present in his features.

“Eighteen—that photo was taken on his birthday, when we received the call,” Tina sighs with a weight in her chest that could be felt by Percival. Unlike their counterpart in the U.K., the age of their Foster System ended at the age of twenty-one, instead of eighteen.  
  
The more Percival stared at the photo of Credence, the more he felt the need to know who he was; the boy’s story and what lead him back to Mary Lou’s menacing grips. He takes another photo from the file, this one with Credence’s eyes staring directly at the camera, the hospital background and time stamp showing this was only a week ago. The swelling of his black eye gone down but there was something in Credence’s eyes that reminded Percival of himself in his youth—the unruly hunger for a better life.

“All right,” Percival sets the photo down, “When can I meet him?”  
  
\-  01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept it super short, please comment and kudos; you're giving jewels/gold to a needy Niffler!


	2. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival picks up Credence and the first night is a little strange to say the least.

**First Night**  
  
  
-  
  
the drive up to the hospital the next evening was a long travel, the bustling streets of restless New York proved to be an annoying commute. The roads congested with cars and the constant buzz of people created an itch in Percival, the itch to perhaps get a drink of whiskey or scotch once home. He could easily use magic, but this day and age magic required energy that expended the body. Magic took more and more energy with age, and to top it off, it was forbidden to use magic in the public eye. And Percival would not have another lecture from Seraphina, not after the long day of business deals, droning meetings and the image of Credence Barebone with an ugly shiner ever-present in his subconscious.  
  
Percival only received half of Credence’s file, the rest of it was under investigation and this set Percival on edge. Credence’s file had time gapes where the boy went missing from school, figures, only the school would report when the child went missing. But the mother would never allow authorities to intervene, it became evident in the few hospital visits documented in Credence’s file. Where she couldn’t hide behind her obvious abusive behavior, he was morbidly thankful there wasn’t photos attached to the second-last visit, the severity described in Credence’s injuries made Percival’s hands twitch with anger. How could a mother so easily beat her child to the point he would deny on her behalf the minor fracture in his skull.

Percival had to keep himself distracted from thinking too deeply on the matter. He decides to check his phone, the screen lights up with push notifications, all of which were from Tina. She kept him in the loop with the case and that she was with Credence, and the latest text she wrote to him was, ‘try to be nice.’

‘Will do.’ Percival manages in a quick text as his impatience was beginning to run thin.  
  
As if on cue his assistant, Mr. Abernathy, pulls into the driveway of the hospital, “Mr. Graves,”

“Ah, yes,” Percival places his phone in his heavy coat pocket, it was raining as he stepped out of the car. Abernathy right away holding an umbrella over him as they made their way into the building.

Percival was used to feeling overdressed when it came to outside work affairs, making his way to reception the eyes of doctors and nurses that stopped their scurrying to stare at him would make most people uncomfortable. To Percival, it was only a minor inconvenience, he shrugs it off as his sights land on Tina. She was dressed in semi-casual attire and with the minimal makeup it became obvious she was exhausted, she’s checking her phone before her eyes meet his.

“Tina,”

“Graves,” she says back, she places her phone in her jean pocket. “I take the commute was tiresome.”

“You could say that,” Percival wanted to roll his eyes, normal travelling was time-consuming and inconvenient.  
  
“Anyways…” Tina trails as she takes a step back from the desk, “Leave the assistant at the desk, Graves, you don’t want to overwhelm the kid.”  
  
Mr. Abernathy nods his head in understanding and waits at the desk as Percival follows Tina. They made their way down the hall and Tina looks over her shoulder at Percival, “I’ve never seen you anxious, Graves.”

The normal glower Percival held lightened, “I wouldn’t say I’m anxious Tina,”

“You read his file, didn’t you?”  
  
“Of course, whatever you gave to me that is.”

She smiles over her shoulder and directs it to Graves, “Good, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. I will warn you now…” she sighs, “He looks a lot more concerning in person. He’s been refusing meals over the last two weeks.”

Percival takes it into account, finally Tina stops in front of a room near the end of the hall, her hand on the latch to the door and with her other hand she knocks on the door, “Credence, it’s Tina, I have Mr. Graves with me. May we come in?”

They both wait until a hesitant voice speaks, “Y-Yeah… I guess…” 

Tina proceeds in and Percival follows, the first notable feature of the sterile room is a tattered clothed back facing him. The amount of holes in the clothes, the worn seams that were ready to undo, Credence practically hugged himself like he was trying to keep his clothes from falling apart. Clinging to himself as he turned around to finally face Tina and Percival.

It mortified Percival the moment he could get a good look at Credence, he had wool mittens on his hands but the bandages peeked through them. The bruising around his pale neck made it obvious why he wasn’t talking as much as Percival anticipated. The sickly features and the depressions of Credence cheeks were much more severe than the photos, the teen looked as if he were caving in on himself.  
  
Percival could see Tina’s warning glare from across the room as she helped pack the remainder of Credence’s belongings. He caught on and scoffed, “Hello, I’m Mr. Graves.”

Percival looked down at Credence, they kept a fair distance from one another as he held his hand out to be formally introduced. Credence was hunched in a way that looked unnatural, the teen was positively frigid as he slowly brought out his unsteady hand to meet Percival’s much larger one.

Percival stepped closer to Credence as the teen slowly lifted his head, the bruised right eye still purple and yellow but the swelling was completely gone. Percival felt his throat tighten in irritation over how glazed Credence’s eyes were. It was as if the teen was between worlds or just in a different world entirely as he whispered from his cut lip, “I’m Credence Barebone. I’ll be in your care…”

It was a first that Percival felt his chest swell in unruly emotional shock, forcing his usual cool demeanor melt away. They shook hands and Percival felt Credence’s shake in his grip, **Jesus** , the teen was worse than he thought.

  


The drive back to Percival’s home was shared in mutual silence, as Credence huddled on the left side of the backseat, his bag clutched to his chest tightly like a safety blanket. Percival didn’t blame Credence for the way the teen reacted to the situation; it was all very unfamiliar and they didn’t know each other that much. This was a forced arrangement, and Percival anticipated Credence’s distance with the amount of painkillers they prescribed to him and how many times the teen had been displaced over the years.

As they pull up to the first set of gates, Percival grabs the present that had been wedge between Credence and him since the trip. The teen had passed shy glances towards the present but never said a word about it.

“Credence,” Percival spoke gently through his deep tone.

“S… Sir?” Credence murmurs as he warily turns his head away from the window to face Percival.  
  
“This gift here is for you,” Percival points to the small box between them. 

Credence bites his bottom lip as he whispers back, “S… Sir… I couldn’t…”

“You do not have to keep it if you don’t wish to, but it’s a gift and it’s yours to do with it what you will.”

Percival observes Credence closely as it takes a whole five minutes before hesitant hands reaches out and finally Credence dares his curiosity to open the small box. Credence eyes Percival suspiciously before he reaches in and pulls out a cell phone.

“It has mine and Tina’s numbers in it already.”  
  
Credence holds it in his hands like it weighed too much as his cheeks flush, “I’ve never had a phone before… Uh, th-thank you, Mr. Graves.”  

“It was not a problem, Credence, welcome to your new home.” Percival comments as Mr. Abernathy pulls up to the front of the house. He watches in amusement at Credence’s face becoming awestruck by the sight of the large house.

Percival was far too used to his lifestyle that it was a humorous reminder to see the wonder from Credence’s face as the teen mouthed ‘wow’ before he resumed his lowering gaze. This time, the teen’s hands busy with turning the phone on as he jolted back in the car seat a little from the sudden flash of the screen.

Mr. Abernathy opens the car door, holding the umbrella as Percival stepped out first. He turns back to Credence and stretches an offering hand to assist the teen out of the car. The teen hesitates as he debates whether or not he should take Percival’s hand and finally decides to accept the offer with a nervous glance as they step out together. Bag still clutched to his chest, Credence lets go of Percival’s hand as Mr. Abernathy shields them from the rain as they approach the entrance.

Inside, Abernathy helps Percival out of his heavy coat, once Percival feels settled he dismisses his assistant for the remaining evening. As he adjusts his gold cufflinks, Percival observes Credence in the foyer he hadn’t dared stepped further than the open entrance, as he tried to do his best to keep his head down.

It nearly alarms Percival to hear Credence say his name, “M… Mr. Graves…”

“Yes?” He steps towards Credence, the teen places his footing as if getting ready to step back. Percival measures his distance immediately, and remains a generous five feet away from Credence, he wanted to treat the situation at hand gently.

It works as Credence’s relaxes with the space between them, “I… Uh… the rules… of the house… what are they?”

“Ah, yes,” **that** , Percival practically forgot about household rules—it had been so long since a Foster was under his roof. He scratched his chin observing the place, “When I’m not home do not enter my room and my office, they’re both on the west end of the house on the second floor. Other than that, you can freely walk in the house and rooms as you please. I had Mr. Abernathy arrange your room and your art studio, I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of getting some clothes for you. Wasn’t too sure of sizes…”

“E-excuse me, sir, but my… my own art space, Mr. Graves?” Credence jitters in disbelief as his head perked up, it was a brief moment where hope gleamed in the teen’s eyes. “S… Sir, this is too much… You couldn’t have possibly…”

Percival chuckles to himself, “You can blame Tina for giving me the idea; she mentioned that you are an artist. Ah, curfew is still a rule enforced, if I recall correctly… Be home before midnight on weekends and before ten on school nights. Sounds fair?”     

Credence nods as he nervously scratches at his elbow, Percival could tell the teen felt out of place, “My room… Sir?”

“It’s on the second floor, just turn to your right and it’s the second last room to your left.” Percival loosens the final cufflink as he makes his way to the kitchen pausing with Credence still in his view, “Are you hungry, Credence?”

“No, sir.” Credence sways for a moment before Percival catches on.

“You can get settled in, Credence. You don’t need my permission.”

Percival once fully in the kitchen, finds a strange welcoming to the sound of pattering feet in the too big house. He pours himself that long awaited and much needed glass of whiskey. It was finely aged and the notes in the whiskey hit the spots in Percival’s palette that needed to be sated. The teen was distant but at least, in Percival’s observation, Credence liked the idea of his own art studio. And he needed space, the entire day catching up with Percival he finally checks his phone, it was nearly eleven.

A push notification lights up on his screen from Tina Goldstein, ‘take care of him, Graves. I will be checking up on him.’

Percival allows a smirk to pass his lips as he drinks down his whiskey in one gulp. The burn is welcome as he places the glass to the side and retires for the night. On the second floor, he looks down the hall and notices the lights where Credence room is are already off. He felt like Credence had the right idea, sleep seem like a more and more appealing concept as tomorrow would be a long day ahead for the both of them.  


  
A sudden alert buzzes off in the night as Percival is stirred awake, he checks and it’s the alarm system, the secondary codes hadn’t been entered. Immediately Percival steps to his feet, grabbing a shirt as he rushes out of his room and down the hall towards Credence’s room. The only time these alarms went off were in situations where someone left the system unlocked but forgot to reactivate the locks.

“Credence,” Percival urged with a groggy annoyance in his tone as he knocked on the door.

No answer.

Impatience takes over and he enters the room, and it didn’t shock Percival so much as impressed him that Credence already knew the gate and house code. He must have watched Abernathy the whole time in the car and when they first arrived. He planned an idea in his head of how he’d approach Credence on this whole ‘curfew’ aspect but firstly, he needed to find the teenager.

Magic would be the normal approach to the situation but Percival noticed that not only was Credence’s bag missing, so was the cell phone. Percival opens an app he had installed to find phones and devices; one of the many he kept track of was Credences' phone. He put another jotting mental note that he’d let Credence know about the app later. Percival grabs his jacket and a pair of shoes then his wand in his coat jacket, the app’s GPS coordinates raise the worry in Percival’s sleep deprived mind. He had to wonder just how the hell Credence managed an hour jog to The Bronx at this hour.

 

With a flick of his wand and a dizzying expense of his energy, he appears on the sidewalk and turns to his right and under the streetlights, he notices the dilapidating church. The mixture of rain and worry created a weight in Percival’s chest as he immediately knew where Credence was. It upset him to think that the teenager would want to run back to this hellhole, but he had to remind himself of Credence history; the abuse and manipulation. What Mary Lou had done to him, he bites back how much he resented the woman as he arrived at the church, he decides to use his phone’s flash as it drew less attention and at the center of the church his eyes make out Credence in the center.

“Credence, it’s me, Mr. Graves.” Percival speaks gently as he didn’t wish to scare Credence.

“… You’re upset I ran away, a-aren’t you?” Credence whispers, his words coming out laced in pain and choked back emotions.

“No, no, Credence. I’m just worried about you, this place isn’t safe for you.” Percival continues to get closer, the creaks in the floorboards raising Percival’s anxiety in the smallest; the smell of decaying wood and moisture caused Percival to scoff.

“I came back to check up on them… I came back… I promised them both I would…” Credence stammers as he held his hands together in a tight fist, “I prayed and prayed, I thought I could protect them… They’re gone…”

Percival connected the dots as he recalled in Credence’s file the two main adopted siblings; Chastity and Modesty, the two sister’s that Mary Lou chose because they were non-magical. He sighs kneeling next to Credence as the lighting made the teenager look incredibly small. Percival felt like a fool, of course Credence would want to go to the last place he saw his sister’s. The human resources and authorities didn’t allow Credence a moment out of the hospital for the teen to even get the chance to check up on his siblings.

“I will call Tina tomorrow and find out where they are, and we can go from there,”

“Really…?” Credence voice cracked with optimism as he let his fists unclench on his lap, the wool mitts still very much there. There’s a temptation for Percival to reach out and pat Credence shoulder, reassure the teen that everything would be fine. But Percival resists and settles with staring at the cross barely hanging on the alter.   

“Yes, on one condition…” Percival adds, “You don’t sneak out of the house so suddenly. You can just text or talk to me about things, okay? Gave me a real scare.”

Credence nods his head as he sniffles a little, “Can… Can we go now?”

Percival brings out his wand, “Grab my sleeve, okay?”  
  
In a flick they’re back in the foyer and immediately he feels the weight of using his magic in his chest. He turns to Credence’s feet running up the stairs and towards his room.

Percival sighs as he makes his way back to his room, he knew he would talk to Tina about the incident in the morning. Perhaps even talk to Credence if the teenager would have it, he wasn’t all too sure how to go about things but he would try his best to take Tina’s advice to heart.  
  
He would try to take care of Credence, even if it meant making a fool of himself in the process. After all, he had managed to lose Credence on the first night. Percival shook his head, picturing Tina’s face the moment he would reveal his wild night. She would probably kill Percival for having Credence slip out into the unsafe streets of New York at night.  
   
Percival felt a small redeeming factor and that was Credence agreeing to come back, that was a victory in his books. A small one, but very much worth being acknowledged.  
  
  
  
\- 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this so far and continuing to give this a chance,  
> comment and kudos to give gold/jewels to a Niffler in need!


	3. Nightly Incidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival discovers the many things that haunt Credence in the night.

**Nightly Incidents**  
  
  
-  
  
Percival expected Tina to freak out, sure, but he hardly expected her to have an impromptu visit at his office. He felt like he should start to anticipate her sudden visits, because with Credence under his roof, the unpredictable teenager proved to not only worry himself, but Tina as well.

“He just up and left your house and you didn’t notice?!” Tina barks and Percival reclines back in his chair for a moment, observing the busy streets below from his office. People looked like ants from this height, making their way through the maze-like concrete city. “You have the most expensive security around, and you let a teenager escape!”

“He figured out the codes, which I changed this morning,” Percival turns back to Tina and rests his chin on his palm at the metal desk, amused by her alarmed face. “I found him regardless, Tina, but it was worrisome.”  
  
“ **Worrisome**? Really, Graves, he left and wandered New York at night! And The Bronx of all places!” Tina paces around the room like a concerned mother. “What are you going to do about this?”

“He wants to see his siblings, that’s the main reason he ran off,” Percival admits, recollecting the boy’s shaky fists and how visibly distraught Credence looked in the church. “He needs to see the two sister’s in person, he needs to know they’re okay.”

Tina pauses and eyes Percival questionably, “He told you that himself? About Chastity and Modesty?”

Percival nods, “Yes, I was as shocked as you are.”

“He must trust you already.” She bites her thumb in thought, “He never spoke a word to anyone aside from me, and it took me days to get him to talk—okay, I’ll send you the info of the two sister’s.”

Percival cuts Tina off before she adds on to her semi-lecture, “I will talk to him about the curfew and wandering the streets at night unsupervised.” 

Tina opens her mouth and then shuts it, “Good,” she adds. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Try not to just show up unannounced next time.”

Tina shrugs off his comment completely, “I’ll let you know when I have their details, Graves.”

Percival sighs, Tina was a piece of work with her persistent nagging and worrying. But he appreciated the passion she has for Credence, the teens wellbeing mattered to the both of them. Percival found it ironic that he could read numbers, economic markets, and financial empires with ease; but with Credence, the boy was an enigma. Percival had a sense of order, control and expectations in his life, he managed to supress emotional mien that ‘poker face’ was a laughable understatement compared to his stone-like expressionless face. Especially when he closed deals and managed his empire with calculated perfection.

With Credence, though, Percival couldn’t supress his emotions, and it showed with him chasing the teenager down in the middle of the night. He couldn’t wrap his head around Credence, the boy drew Percival in, and unlike anyone the man had met; Credence was something else. No magic or non-magical being pulled his attention and raised so many unanswered questions in his head. Percival couldn’t shake Credence’s perplexing nature out of his consciousness.

Percival had the strong desire to figure out the puzzling gapes to Credence’s life, and he wanted the puzzle to be answered from Credence. He had come to actualize his protective nature around the teen, because the thought of Credence in that ramshackle church getting beaten by Mary Lou, boiled the blood in his veins and created a tautness in Percival’s jaw.  

On the way home, Percival hatched a plan of how he’d bring up the whole ‘running away to The Bronx without a word is not okay’ subject to Credence. For the most part, Percival left Credence alone. It was mostly due to the medications; they made the teen drowsy and distant. Percival took into account that Credence would want time to adjust, that’s why he didn’t bother bringing up anything during breakfast. He didn’t even get a good look at Credence during their short morning, he watched the teen eat what was on his plate and bolted up the stairs before Percival could bother getting a word out.

That would change, Percival hoped, anyways. The last thing Percival wants is the teen completely shutting him out, Credence already experienced being repressed from Mary Lou and not even attending Ilvermorny, **hell** , he was sure the teen probably knew nothing about the school. Another important mental note Percival made—did Credence want to attend a magic school or a normal one? 

When he arrives home, it was eerily quiet as he dismissed Mr. Abernathy for the evening. Undoing his cufflinks that has gold lion heads embroidery on them, Percival steps into the kitchen to grab his routine drink when he’s met with Credence’s back. This time was different, Credence wasn’t wearing his tattered clothes like at the hospital; he wore a deep navy blue crew neck sweater and black straight leg jeans. What troubled Percival was the fact Credence looked as if he were floating in the outfit, then his eyes trail to Credence bruised neck. The contrast of purple and yellow hand marks on the back of his neck immediately results in Percival’s hand twitching to think Credence had suffered so much.

He decides to stop himself from staring at Credence for too long and brooding on the teen’s survival of abuse, and resolves himself on grabbing some bourbon. As he curtly makes himself a glass of his personal favorite bourbon, gazing lazily across the expansive room to the large window that had the glimmer of the city lights dancing in the backdrop, Credence turns to look at him. For a moment, Percival swore he saw silver crescents in the teen’s amber colored eyes but convinces himself he was seeing things, the day had been far too long for Percival’s liking. 

“Mr. Graves,” Credence finally manages in a quiet tone as he hesitantly approaches the preparation table that Percival’s occupying.

“Yes, Credence?” Percival takes back his aged bourbon, swirling it and getting the notes of wood in his palette, then sets the glass down, a long finish before his eyes meet Credence’s wide-blown pupils. It must have been the painkillers to make Credence’s eyes look so dilated. There’s an obvious pout on the teen’s full lips as for a moment, they share a mutual regard for each other.

Percival watches Credence’s hands as they ghostly touch the marble countertop, his fingertips tracing the polished marble. The wrapped bandages still very much present on his hands, Percival notes that Credence must have changed them out of the tattered ones at the hospital. Credence tilts his head to the side of his shoulder timidly; revealing littered bruising as his eyes cast down to the empty glass then back to Percival, “A-About last night…”

“I wanted to talk to you about that as well,” it impressed Percival that Credence would bring up the incident himself.

“Oh?” Credence murmurs, and Percival felt like he lost the teen again to that internalized guilt embed so deeply in Credence.

“I have Tina looking into where Modesty and Chastity are.”

There’s the smallest twitch to the side of Credence mouth, his lips pursing into a reserved half-smile, “I… Thank you…”

Percival shakes his head, “Its fine, Credence. You should be able to see your siblings no matter what.” He continues as Credence remains idle, watching Percival, “But sneaking off isn’t the best method to seeing them, okay?”

Credence nods his head in a lethargic way, drowsily agreeing on the matter, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

It wrenches Percival’s chest to hear the apology, because he knew the boy had probably said those two words too many times, “I accept your apology, but moving forward just talk or text me if you feel it’s necessary to leave beyond curfew. Tina wrung me out today, she was worried sick about you.”

 “I didn’t mean to do that.” Credence adds in a murmur, “I never meant to get you into trouble, Mr. Graves… You’ve done so much already for me…” 

“It wasn’t your fault, you did what felt right,” Percival pours another glass of bourbon, “they should’ve told you what happened to your sister’s. It wasn’t fair to you,”

Percival didn’t expect Credence to stare at him like his words were spun gold but the look in Credence’s eyes told him, beyond the obvious medicated high, that the teen was elated by his words. Their eyes meet in momentary silence in the open kitchen, and immediately Credence looks back down at the marble countertop, a faint rosy hue rising in his cheeks.

Credence awkwardly grabs his forearm and rubs his elbow as he mumbles, “May I be excused now?”

Percival sips the bourbon slowly and senses he’s spoken too boldly to Credence, “You don’t need my permission, Credence.” He skirts around the table towards Credence, his drink in one hand, the teen observes him as he reaches his arm out.

For a moment, Credence flinches instinctively and Percival keeps his hand open as he waits for the teen to relax. Their eyes meet and once Credence’s shoulders lower and he dares to keep his eyes on Percival, the man continues. He raises his hand slowly to meet the top of Credence’s head and pats him gently. “It’s okay, you can walk and speak freely here, Credence.”

Percival removes his hand, Credence nods bashfully as the older man makes his way to his favourite recliner chair. Percival observes the city backdrop and listens to Credence feet run up the stairs in an echo. The talk went better than Percival anticipated as he assumed that Credence would avoid the curfew issue entirely. The teenager was full of surprises as he takes a long draw of his bourbon, checking his phone to see a push notification from two people; Tina and Seraphina.  

He didn’t bother with looking at Seraphina’s, it was always business with that woman and she was a powerhouse that exhausted Percival to no end. Tina, on the other hand, he was becoming more amused with her texts.

‘How did the conversation go? Did he runaway again?’

Percival chuckled to himself, quick to answer back, ‘No. He’s fine.’

‘Good. I have the info you’re looking for… You may want to wait before you tell Credence.’

Percival took another sip as he swirled the dark liquor in his glass, ‘Do you want to set up a meeting on this matter?’

‘I will see you later this week to discuss it in person…’

Percival sighed, of course Tina wouldn’t bother with setting up a meeting; she was a class act of fashionable appearances as of late. But it got Percival curious as to what happened to the Barebone siblings since Mary Lou was arrested, the woman was sentenced to the ward immediately as she was declared clinically insane. He felt the punishment wasn’t enough, considering what Mary Lou did to those kids, especially Credence… It didn’t feel like justice at all.

Percival stares deeply into the glass, seeing his chary expression in the reflection before finally drinking it back. The thought of that fanatically religious woman left a bad taste in his mouth that not even liquor could numb.

 

 

The next few days, Percival gets into a routine of checking up on Credence once he arrives home. The teen mostly slept all day due to the painkillers they prescribed to him, barely up in the evenings, Credence manages enough awareness to grab some food then back to sleeping. It took some days before Percival notices a strange nightly occurrence. The patter of feet in the hallway starts off as two minutes the most, and Percival is convinced it’s Credence navigating his way to one of the bathrooms on the floor.

This changes as the patter of feet start to last longer and then, small whispering accompanying the teens nightly walks. It takes two consecutive nights before the occurrence repeats and this time, Percival finally withdrawals himself from his room and checks the hall. Credence is at a door whispering to it, and Percival registers that the teen is sleepwalking as the sway in the teens body is dozily in its movement.

Something that was definitely not mentioned in any record or his file, and Percival sighs, combing his fingers through his hair as he walks up to the teen. What stops him dead in his tracks is how Credence nimbly stands and the words that leave the teen’s mouth in a choked plea.

“I promise, Ma. I’ll pray it away. I’ll pray it away.”

It alarms Percival that even in his sleepwalking state, the woman had done this much damage to Credence. Percival felt one of his fists clench but withdrawals from his emotions as he finally nears the teen. Credence eyes have that silver crescent in them, and Percival cannot mistake it as anything other than magic. Credence’s eyes are half lidded as he continues to mumble words that vaguely translated to scripture Percival was sure the poor boy had been brainwashed with for far too long.

“Credence, it’s me,” Percival whispers, “I’m going to take you back to your room and to bed, okay?”

Percival watches as Credence only repeats himself with, “I promise, Ma… I promise.” 

There was a temptation to hug Credence in that moment, Percival hated Mary Lou and he never had the displeasure of meeting the slimy bitch. Even if he did, he wasn’t too sure he’d not get arrested himself. He grumbles in frustration about how emotional he was getting. Percival attentively touches Credence’s shoulder—it nearly frightens the man to feel how boney Credence is, how **small** and fragile just his shoulder felt in his hand.

“Follow me, okay?”

Credence follows with Percival’s thoughtful guidance back to the room. Percival helps Credence back to bed, and waits until he’s sure Credence is actually asleep before leaving the teen.

This routine continues for two more nights, the sleepwalking and talking—Percival doesn’t bring it up in the daytime to Credence. Just when Percival is sure he has a good handle on things with Credence nightly sleepwalks, it changes completely.

Percival’s eyes snap open to the sound of a bloodcurdling scream, he leaps to his feet and doesn’t bother with putting a shirt on. He runs to the source of the scream—Credence’s room, when he slams the door open he’s met with Credence levitating off the bed, screaming bloody murder.

“Credence!” Percival couldn’t think rationally, seeing the teen’s eyes that are wide-open; that silver glinting crescent is now all-consuming and it’s like glowing liquid mercury in Credence’s eyes. The teen’s eyes were like two silver orbs in the darkness of the room. If the ear-piercing screams were to continue, Percival knew the teen’s vocal cords would rip.   

There was no mistaking that this was not a normal night terror—this was magic pouring out in the midst of Credence’s fear. He was thankful it wasn’t an Obscurus; it was definitely trauma, vivid trauma, whatever Credence was reliving it was deeply entrenched in his subconscious. The lights in the room flickering on and off as Percival got closer to Credence.

When Credence’s head tilts in Percival’s direction, acknowledging the man’s presence, he can see the agony in the bioluminescent eyes. Percival can almost feel the tangible pain as it comes in waves; the mixture of hurt and magic pulsating in the room. The teen’s right arm reaching out in a despairing plea to Percival and the man wordlessly understands, he grabs Credence’s bandaged hand and holds it as he courteously tugs the teen towards him.

“I’m here, it’s going to be okay,” Percival repeats with his eyes remaining steady on Credence. “It’s a nightmare. It’s okay. I’m real. You’re safe.”

Slowly Credence’s body descends down, the screaming halts, Percival brings his other arm under to catch the teen in his grip. He gently repeats comforting words to Credence as the teen’s unruly magic dissipates and the illuminating silver in his eyes disappears. Once Credence is in his arms, Percival recognizes the deep amber eyes that he had grown so used to over the week, he finally breathes.

The lights stop flickering in the room and Percival sits on the side of the bed, waiting for Credence to consciously come back to him. He hopes his words guide the teen back to him, and it works as Credence’s half lidded eyes blink and for the first time since meeting the boy, Percival watches Credence cry; the awestruck despair that rumbles out of the teenager in his lap is heartbreaking.

Percival wasn’t all too sure what came over him but he embraced the teen in his arms, holding Credence head to his chest tenderly as the boy wept in his arms. He rests his cheek on the top of Credence’s head, the smell of sweet amber and wood filters his nostrils, Percival has never been this close to Credence; the teen would never allow it. But in this moment, Percival was allowed as Credence’s bandaged arms clung onto him, trembling in desperation for comfort.

“She wants to hurt me. She’ll hurt me—they’ll all hurt me!” Credence hiccups against Percival’s chest.

All the man can do is hush Credence and reassure him in a deeply comforting tone, trying to console the shivering teen in his arms, “No. They won’t. You’re safe now, Credence. It was a nightmare.”

Percival loses sense of time, as he waits patiently for Credence’s sobbing to become a quiet whimper and gradually the teen becomes lethargic in his grip. Once the teen fully relaxes in his grip, and Credence’s arms retreat back, Percival murmurs, “I’m going to let you go now, okay?”

Percival feels Credence nod against him, the teen stammers out in a cracked voice, “C-Can you stay for… for a bit?”

An unmistakable ache is strained in Percival’s chest as he allows Credence to unfurl from his chest and grip, “Of course.”

He helps Credence get settled back into bed, immediately the teen relaxes and Percival takes the small risk of combing his fingers through Credence hair in a comforting motion. The teen doesn’t reject the touch, almost welcoming Percival’s affectionate gesture. It doesn’t take long before sleep takes over Credence and the teen is fast asleep.

Percival watches idly for a moment, “You’re safe here…” He repeats a final time and leaves the room.

The first thing Percival does is grab his phone and calls Tina immediately. It takes three rings and she picks up, “Graves, what the hell—”  
  
“Tina, is Queenie still an active psychologist?” Percival gets straight to the point in a solemn tone, wasting no time after what he has just witnessed.    
  
“Yes… Yeah, she still is…”

“Give me her details, I need her to look at Credence.”

Tina pauses, “What happened, Graves?”

“I’ll fill you in later, just give me her details as soon as you can. I’ll let you go.” Percival hangs up before Tina can answer, he checks the time and it’s 3 o’clock in the morning. He tosses his phone carelessly on his bed as he sits at the foot of it. He passes his hands through his hair, momentarily holding his head in his hands as he asks himself, “What did they do to you…?”

Percival felt at a loss for words thinking of Credence, but at least the teen was asleep. Sleep didn’t appeal to Percival as he couldn’t shake the silver eyes that enraptured Credence. Just what kind of magic did the boy possess? Percival was left with too many questions, insomnia swayed in as in too short of a time, the sun rose and the relentless business of New York struck up his phone.

  
\- 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment and kudos, you're giving jewels/gold to a Niffler in need!  
> I hope this progress in their characters intrigues y'all as much as it's been for me!  
> It's a slow burn, but it's a lot of development between the two!


	4. Odd Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having Credence as a Foster gets much more complicated as Queenie helps the teenager out with odd therapy.

**Odd Therapy**  
  
  
  
-

 

Coffee shops weren’t Percival’s type of scenery, he didn’t like being surrounded by people unless it was business related; the white noise of senseless chatter and low ambient lighting during the mid-afternoon traffic bustling outside the café didn’t elate him. But Tina insisted on having coffee, a good trade than having her barging into his office unannounced as she so actively did the last week. Percival taps his fingers on the round oak table as the barista hands him his double espresso. He wasn’t a huge fanatic of coffee, but when Percival wanted the brewed drink, it was usually as straight up and defined as him. 

For a moment, there’s a silver glint in the cup from the lighting and Percival couldn’t shake what happened to Credence last night out of his head; it brought it all back as he stared at the drink. The way Credence eyes were so far gone, how terrified the teen was of his own night terrors agitated Percival’s blood. The man felt responsible for Credence’s pain, because the teen was now in his care and seeing that type of deeply rooted trauma struck a chord with Percival that he had to help Credence—in some way.

That way being Queenie, the woman had been studying psychology for some time in their university years. He recalled Queenie never taking much of a liking to him during their school years, but that was merely because they had different networks and the woman oozed empathy; something Percival could do without. And there was the fact she had mastered Legilimency by freshman year, Percival wasn’t a fan of having it used on him—but that ability was deeply needed with Credence.

Tina comes bustling in like a storm as she tosses her scarf and hat on the chair, setting her briefcase down next to the chair. She’s dressed in the professional modern attire that made her classy but much more grounded than Percival’s personal style.

“This weather is getting too cold too quickly,” Tina comments as she snaps her fingers for the barista and orders a latte.

“It’s almost winter, Tina, this weather is expected or would you rather move to L.A.?”

“Graves, I’m not here for your rhetoric comments. After you hanging up with such a vague request for my sister, I’m hardly in the mood.” She ruffles through her hair momentarily, the tired bags still very present under her eyes, like all the Foster cases were finally catching up to her as she sighed.  
  
Percival raised a brow as he takes a sip of his espresso, “Ah, yes.” He would’ve apologized but if Tina was going to keep tabs on his unexpected calls regarding Credence, then he’d reciprocate it the same fashion with her unannounced office visits.

Tina breathes as she finally takes her coffee and sips it, “So what happened to Credence that you need Queenie?”

“That,” Percival stopped as he recalled Credence fear stricken face, “I’d prefer to discuss it in a much more private setting, Tina.”

Tina leans forward on the table, both hands holding her cup as she makes sympathetic eye contact with Percival, “That bad?”

Percival nods, “It was an incident I hope doesn’t reoccur…”

“For your sake or his?” she takes another mouthful of her coffee, setting the cup down and grabbing out a file from her briefcase.

“His, Tina, **Christ** , you think I would be that facetious?”  
  
“Hasn’t stopped you before, Graves.” Tina comments as she brings out the photos of two girls that Percival naturally assumes is the Barebone sister’s.

He stares at the photo as he reflects on Tina’s comment. She wasn’t too far off from the truth, Percival was known for resolving issues for mostly his own selfish benefit, and arguing until he won the conversation. A natural instinct he had growing up in the roughest neighborhood in Detroit; he always had to outsmart everyone around him or fight them. Raised by a single mother himself, Percival recalls how his father left when he was far too young to understand the situation. He came so close to walking down a very dark path growing up, because he was so desperate to find some way out. But his mother worked so hard to keep him away from that misguided path. When he got accepted into Ilvermorny it was a blessing, he excelled academically and was one of the very few to be able to choose what house he wanted. Living with roommates after graduating the Wizarding School, majoring mostly in law and business; he was offered to become an Auror immediately but he couldn’t do it. There was too much at stake in his life when he was offered that step, he took a different direction; Seraphina never let it go, the offer to become an Auror and work as her right-hand in the department.  

Tina coughs noticing Percival’s distant iron stare, “About Chastity and Modesty…”

“Yes, what is so important about them that you had to tell me in person,” Percival reclines back in the chair, his usual glower back as he takes another long drink of the remaining coffee.

“They’re in a No-Maj home now… and the family is very against us… when we offered to reach out to the girls to council them and get more information about their daily life, the family practically kicked us out when we managed to get the basic questions answered….”

“Typical…” Percival grunts, of course a No-Maj home would immediately adopt those girls, Credence was taken by the Foster system. These girls didn’t have a lick of magic in them, “Is the family at least good to them?”

Tina bites her bottom lip as if she is debating whether or not to say whatever was on her mind, “Graves,” she hands another document, “This family wants nothing to do with Credence, they’re moving to Oregon…”

“What about the investigation,” Percival leans forward, his brows knitting together in annoyance, “they’re just going to let the kids move to the other side of the country? Just like that? Away from their brother and any semblance of their family?”

Tina sighs, “I expected this from you, and it’s why I had to tell you in person. Our end with the Barebone sister’s is a closed case, they’re free to move with the family; they’re good people… Aside from their obvious prejudice…” Tina rolls her eyes like she had been dealing with the family for some time, probably trying to convince them that Credence deserved to see his siblings. 

“When are they leaving?”

 “Tomorrow,” Tina places the papers back as she fiddles with her phone, “the family won’t let Credence see them goodbye at their home… but, I know the school they’re currently attending…”

Percival nods, “Give me the school address and details, Tina.”

She agrees, “Of course, when will you tell Credence?”

Percival contemplates Tina’s statement, “Later tonight, after Queenie visits him.”

“You’re lucky that Queenie has a soft spot for kids, when I mentioned your name she was not enthusiastic about visiting your home personally.”  
  
“Well, you can assure Queenie that this isn’t about me,” Percival sighs, last time he saw Queenie was on her wedding day to Jacob Kowalski, a simple non-magical pastry chef and popular bakery shop owner. And Jacob ended up throwing up on his shoes from dancing and drinking far too merry that night. When Percival made a snide comment about the situation threatening to Obliviate the man’s memory, Queenie never let it go—Percival could admit that he had stepped out of line with it. He just wasn’t ever a fan of weddings or sappy lovey-dovey settings, it agitated the man to no end. Tina was the one who invited him to begin with, which she regretted when Queenie fought him after the dance. “Just let her know that I’ll owe her a favor for this.”

Tina smirks, “That’s rich, Graves, she’ll never let you outlive that favor.” She then finishes up her latte, “How is Credence holding up since last night?”

“He’s been sleeping mostly, but I have a feeling he’ll be restless soon.”

“I expected as much from him,” Tina checks her phone, “I’ve got to cut this short but I’ll see you tonight at 8 sharp with Queenie. Make sure Credence is awake, okay?”

“Yes, of course, thank her for me will you.”

“I think she’d rather hear it from you,” she snorts, “Queenie will be on cloud nine to hear it.”

With that, Tina mimicked the typical New Yorker way and immersed herself into a faceless person in a massive crowd on the street. Percival was left with a push notification on his phone from his trainer, he sighs, at least a workout would help get Percival’s mind off everything if only for two short hours.  
  
  
When Percival arrives home with Mr. Abernathy in tow, they are both stunned to see Credence lumbering around the large living space with paying little to no mind of their presence. This was a welcoming change to Percival, he hardly expected Credence to even be out of his bed; the kid had been resting non-stop since he lived in the home. Considering the night they previously had, Percival felt odd relief to see Credence moving around so freely and the teen was actually eating this time around, a hand full of raspberries as he took a seat on the couch. There was a sketch book with charcoal pieces and various tools splayed out on the Italian walnut table.  
  
Percival could tell from the corner of his eye the twitched frown from Mr. Abernathy, the man wasn’t impressed with Credence obvious disregard for the expensive table having potential damage. But Percival dismissed the man immediately before the situation could spur into a lecture at the teen about household manners. This wasn’t the time or place for Credence to feel guilty over him merely getting settled and adjusting to living in Percival’s house.

Once his assistant left, Percival goes by his usual routine; undoing his cufflinks and pouring himself a drink. He would need at least two drinks before Queenie and Tina would arrive, because having to explain exactly what he had witnessed. This wasn’t like closing a business deal or analyzing stocks—this was a teenager full of magic, a very vulnerable and complicated one at that. He felt a particular tension in his chest having to explain to Credence about the nature of Queenie and Tina’s visit.

Percival pours a glass of whiskey, one that was smooth but had notes of strong spice. He drinks it down in two gulps and it gives the kind incentive he needs to address quite a few things to Credence. The man wasn’t all too sure how the teen would react to having Queenie talk to him or him bringing up the incident. He didn’t want Credence to recluse back or worse, completely shut down, having the teen actually look comfortable was a huge step in the right direction.

He approaches Credence and watches the teen use his charcoal covered fingers to smudge the page with different gradients of shading. The piece was meticulous, it was the Brooklyn Bridge and the details didn’t go unnoticed to Percival’s sights. It delighted the man to see Credence, knowing through the trauma he had endured, was able to pour such passion into an artistic medium.

“Looks really good,” Percival comments as he waits for Credence to make eye contact. Once they do he points to a spot next to Credence, “May I?”

Credence’s face turns red for a moment as if Percival had walked into something private. “T-Thanks…” It takes a moment for the teen to process Percival’s compliment, as he stops his fingers from brushing in more shading he nods shyly, “I guess so…”

The older man takes a seat as he fiddles with his phone for a time, trying to find a way to bring up Queenie and Tina without potentially scaring the teen. Percival decides just to bite the bullet and sets his phone down, hands clasped together as he looks at Credence.

Their eyes meet again and there it was, the silver crescents glinting and drawing anyone into the teen’s tawny eyes. “Credence, do you remember anything from last night?”  
  
Credence stiffens, his posture changes as he draws up a knee and rests his chin on it; the teen was becoming smaller before Percival could continue. The silver crescents vanishing and fear replaces the magic Percival saw moments ago.

“I don’t know… I remember parts…” Credence mumbles, “Are you mad at me?”

Percival immediately shakes his head, “No. I’m worried about you, which is why… I called Tina.”

Credence nibbles on his bottom lip, it was nearly healed now but it made his pout much more prominent. Still the purple and yellow under the teen’s right eye embellished on his sharp features, an ugly reminder that this was only the beginning on the road to recovery for Credence.

The teen shifts as he picks at a loose string on his black sweater, “Are you and Tina going to be sending me to another home…? Or the hospital…?”

Percival raised his brows, his stare lifting into disbelief, “No, Credence, we’re not sending you away… If you ever wish to live somewhere else, we can always arrange that…”  
  
“No… I’m… I’m okay here,” Credence whispers as he grabs a raspberry from a small bowl, popping the berry in his mouth as he finally makes full eye contact, “What did she say?”

“You’re going to meet Queenie, she’s Tina’s sister and a highly skilled psychologist,” Percival anticipates Credence to reject the idea of talking to a psychologist. **Hell** , he couldn’t blame the teen for deciding that, after the little knowledge Percival gathered of Credence’s past, it wouldn’t come as any surprise.

“Okay,” Credence takes another berry as he draws his other knees up to tuck under his chin, his bandaged hands dirtied with charcoal and berry stains as he pops the fruit into his mouth. “When is she coming?”

Percival felt like he had gotten the wrong Foster kid, this wasn’t the same Credence that was terrified to speak like he recalled in the hospital. It was a shocking pleasantry that the teen was changing little by little living here, so lax about being open to speaking with Queenie.

Percival had to stop himself from staring so openly towards Credence, he grabs his phone and checks the time, “They’ll be here in about 10 minutes.”

“Oh, I’ll… I’ll clean up.” Credence unravels himself from his sitting position and hurries to put away his art supplies.

The teen leaves Percival to stare at the bowl of raspberries, temptation strikes and he takes one of them and eats it. The mixture of tang and sweet reminds Percival of an intrusive comparison that even he felt he needed another drink to be envisioning those kinds of thoughts. Perhaps the man was investing too much time into Credence, he felt a wrench of guilt to think of Credence as anything else other than his Foster. He resolves himself on getting up and making another drink as soon enough, after pouring another glass; no ice to dilute his drink, his phone alarm goes off.  It felt more appropriate for Percival to have a strong drink, as he allowed Tina and Queenie through the gate.

Queenie is the first to the door, her outfit as fashionable as ever; a beautiful peach skin-tight dress that hugged her curves in the most salacious ways, with embroidery on it, and a white faux fur jacket hanging off her shoulders, a wedding ring glinting on her hand. Her eyes nor the diamond on her finger were nearly as bright as her smile as she stormed in once Percival opens the door.

“Where is he? I want to meet this wonderful boy!” Queenie’s voice croons the halls as her beige heels click against the polished flooring.

Tina quickly enters as she shakes hands with Percival, “Graves,”

“Tina, evening,” Percival and her nod in mutual acknowledgment as their sights land back to Queenie.

“Queenie,” Tina warns as she takes her jacket off.

“ **Teenie** ,” Queenie whisks her wand out as she turns her back and winks at them both, “I want to speak with him, from what Teenie’s told me he’s someone of interest.”

“He’s upstairs, either in his room or his studio, it’s to your right and down the hall.” Percival takes a sip of his whiskey as Queenie doesn’t spare a moment as she makes her way up.

“Is he an artist? What a delight he must be!” Queenie chatters.

Once she’s out of Percival’s line of sight and hearing he scoffs, “Teenie? I haven’t heard that one in ages from Queenie.”

Tina rolls her eyes, “Graves, you should be thankful I’m even here.”

“I am… Do you wish to have a drink?”

Tina follows Percival’s lead as they make their way to the kitchen, “Will it help me wrap my head around you calling me at 3 in the morning?”

Percival contemplates grabbing a cigarette, a terrible habit he picked up in his youth but he managed to keep his self-control on not getting addicted to them. The temptation was becoming more and more welcoming as he curtly poured a personal favorite of his merlot wines, a very fine vintage that if he bothered to let Tina know the price, she’d protest against drinking it.

“Here, have a taste of this merlot wine, Chateau Lafite 1865,”

Tina sighs, “Graves, do I want to know the cost of this?”

Graves allows a sly grin to purse his lips, “Hmmm, no but I offered,”

Tina rolls her eyes, taking the glass, sniffing the wine then takes a mouthful, “This is borderline sinful, Graves. If we didn’t have a longstanding history, I’d be suspicious that you are trying to seduce me.”

Percival chuckles, “Now that is a statement,” both walk to the piano room where it faces the city backdrop. The man swirls his whiskey around and decides to take another generous drink of it, “Credence sleepwalks…”

Tina raises her brows, “That was not mentioned on his medical papers… when did he start that?”

“The day after he arrived,” Percival feels his jaw tighten in the smallest as he recalls, “at first, I didn’t think too deeply about it. Lots of people sleepwalk, but he started talking too.”

Tina continues to drink as she listens carefully, “What did he talk about?”

“His mother, that insufferable woman… Whatever she did to him, Tina… It changed him…” Percival was hard-pressed to admit the magic he had witnessed in Credence, the obvious fear that somehow he had developed an Obscurus and by some miracle lived to be at this age. But that wasn’t the case, someone had stripped the teen’s mental state bare. “He has magic, unruly magic, Tina. He was levitating from a night terror and I was staring into raw magic…”

Tina doesn’t hide her thoughts as Percival can tell exactly what she’s thinking. “Was it?”

“No, it wasn’t that… He’s not that…”

“Whatever it is, Graves, are you sure you can handle him and his magic?”  
  
Percival glowers at the remainder of his drink, slugging it back and coughing before speaking, “I want to handle it—him, whatever this is… at least guide him in the right direction.”

Tina softly laughs, “He’s definitely changing you or perhaps, you see yourself in him?”

Percival chuckles, “I see a lot of myself in him, sure, but it’s more than that…”

“Well, I can imagine so, having him levitating and from what I can tell, making the famous deadpan Graves worried is something **more**.”

“You can’t report to your superiors of this incident, Tina, I don’t wish to add more stress and mistrust to the kid.” _Not when I finally earned a small portion of his trust_ , Percival hisses to himself in thought.

Tina sighs, polishing off her wine, “I will let this slide, Graves, but if he is in anyway of potential danger to himself or others…”

“I understand.”

Before they can continue, the familiar click of Queenie’s heels brings their conversation to a halt. Queenie continues to smile but this smile wasn’t of challenge or excitement but one of deep thought. Percival could tell right away Queenie probably felt some of Credence pain just by her smile and posture. Immediately Percival removes himself and grabs Queenie a drink right away, knowing the potency of her magic, the woman wordlessly needed a drink. He hands her a glass of wine and she gingerly drinks it, Tina coughs, Percival knew she didn’t expect Queenie to be so quiet after spending time with Credence.

“Has he ever been evaluated before?” Queenie asks.

Tina shakes her head, “We tried, but he refused to speak to anyone during his stay at the hospital.”

Queenie sighs, “There’s… so much pain in that sweet boy.” She makes eye contact with Percival, “Can I speak with you in private, Percival?”

Percival nods, “Ah, yes.”

They walk to the other side of the house, where the indoor garden still flourished. Percival opens the door into the garden and Queenie follows in, adjusting herself as she sips her wine. They share a moment of silence as Queenie clears her throat.

“When he allowed me to see some of his memories… there was a lingering energy in his magic… it was like being trapped in static,” Queenie sighs, “The poor boy, when his memories and magic started to combine… the root of what made him so broken he practiced occulmency without evening realizing it at a level I have never seen before…”

Percival watches Queenie intently, “I’m not shocked… he’s something else…” Percival recalls the previous night, “the amount of abuse he’s survived… his night terrors and magic… for a moment I almost mistook it for...”

Queenie swallows as she decides to look away for a moment before meeting Percival’s sight again, “Would you be willing to show me…?”

Percival nods in silent agreement as their eyes meet and Queenie steps closer, she grabs Percival’s hand, he can practically feel the magic sparking from her fingertips. Queenie closes her eyes and Percival could see the mixture of shock and confusion he felt mimicked on her face. Queenie releases her grip and reels back from witnessing what left Percival sleepless and desiring to drink himself to sleep.

“Oh, honey… the poor boy,” Queenie shakes her head, “No wonder you called Teenie so suddenly…”

“Queenie, what can I do to help him?” Percival didn’t want to dance around the topic. He didn’t know how to handle a teenager, “He’s been through enough, he’s my responsibility now…”

“Time, patience, support… He has to be willing to talk about it… His magic will settle, all that pent up pain will vanish and he can heal…” Queenie takes the remainder of her wine as she reflects deeply before speaking, “His magic is tied heavily to his emotions, Percival, it isn’t easy for him to express himself but he has so much life to him… You will just have to give him time, he needs to trust you… so many people have betrayed and failed Credence…”  
  
Percival let the weight of Queenie’s words sink heavy in his chest, “I’ll do that…”

Queenie smiles starkly to Percival, “I’ve never seen your selfless side before, Percival. It’s a nice change,” her toothy grin is contagious as Percival can’t withhold himself from smiling back.

“Perhaps we’re both changing,” Percival admits, “I do regret getting into a fight with Jacob at your wedding…”

 “Now I’m just certain you’re a little tipsy, Percival,” she giggles, “Tina is getting impatient, I can sense her getting restless.”

 “Ah, yes,” Percival ran his fingers through his styled hair back, “It’s getting late too…”

Showing Tina and Queenie out, Percival could see Credence at the top of the stairs hiding as they said their goodbyes.

“Keep in touch, let me know how you both are doing,” Queenie smiles, “I would love to have one of Credence paintings in my office.”

Percival smiles, “I’ll let him know that,”

Tina nods, “Text or call me if anything changes.”

“Of course,” Percival agrees and escorts them to their car, even though Tina and Queenie preferred magic, they adjusted to using none-magical lifestyles quite rapidly.

Once Percival re-enters the house, he’s met with those familiar amber eyes that are peaking around the corner at the top of the stairs. The man chuckles as he makes a gesture, cocking his head to the side to let the teenager know he was heading to the lounging area. With the chilly weather, Percival contemplates lighting a fire in the extravagant hearth. As he brings out his wand and lights a fire, he turns to Credence nimbly standing beside the couch.

“Hey,” Percival acknowledges as he settles himself on his reclining chair.

Credence remains standing idle as he picks at his bandaged hands, “Hi…”

“How was meeting Queenie?”

“It was… okay,” Credence flushes, “She likes my artwork….”

“That good,” Percival watches as Credence grabs his one arm, head tucked down to the side displaying the ugly bruising on his neck. The man felt his throat go dry, it still angered him that Credence had undergone so much. “I wanted to talk about your sister’s….”

 Credence finally meets his gaze, “Okay.”

Percival didn’t know what to expect, he was never good with emotions. Even with his last Foster case, she wasn’t anything like Credence. “They’re still here in the city, but they’re moving…”

The way Credence lips trembled had Percival instantly to his feet, and the man couldn’t understand why he felt the need to take action towards the teen. Percival was certain that Credence had him under some spell, he never felt this protective over anyone before.  

“When…?” Credence muttered in a broken voice that sounded more like a plea that it wasn’t true what Percival was saying.

He carefully approaches Credence, expecting the teen to pull back and reject him being so close. But it seems this was another surprise he could add to his list as Credence didn’t back away, only forward to meet Percival eye to eye. The man saw the tawny eyes become red, the heat radiating off him as the obvious tears were welling up in the teen’s eyes.

“Tomorrow… I’ll escort you to meet them, to say goodbye…”

There’s a dreadful silence as Percival watches Credence reaction, he feels the instinctive need to wrap his arms around the teen. To reassure Credence that it was going to be okay, that when Chastity and Modesty got older, he’ll see them again.

Credence sights remain glued to the floor for some time, then the tears drip off his long lashes as he chokes out, “Will the family take care of them? Are they safe and happy? I wanted to protect them…”  
  
When Credence finally manages to look back up at Percival, it crushes the man’s usual stoic stance into ruins. The tear stained cheeks, the flushness and obvious distraught Credence felt rippled in and Percival couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. The man embraces Credence in his grip as he feels the shaky teen in his arms sob into his chest.

“Yes, they’re safe. You did your best to protect them, they’re okay now. They’re safe because of you.” Percival murmurs softly against the top of the teen’s head. Repeating the statement over and over again as Credence gripped Percival tightly.

  
The sobs become quiet and eventually the only sound Percival can hear is Credence sniffling and the crackle of the fire embers.   
   
  
\- 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! Wow, I'm so sorry for taking so long.  
> I've been so busy and my health has been off  
> but I am back and I hope to continue to update!  
> Comment/kudos gives gold/jewels to a Niffler in need!


	5. The Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival brings Credence to say goodbye to his siblings, the day makes an unexpected turn and both share in some heavy revelations.

**The Bridge**  
  


-  
  


Meeting and reuniting the Barebone siblings was not something Percival ever picture himself doing. The whole car ride there was shared in mutual silence between him and the teen. Percival welcomed the silence between them during the commute to see the siblings, as droning meetings and making calculative decisions with cumbersome numbers, he felt an irritable headache coming up.

Once they pulled up to the private school the man carefully observes Credence reaction. There was an obvious knotting in the teen’s shoulders as he hunched forward, clasping at the phone in his hands like it would give him the strength to face his sibling’s. This raised a curious brow from Percival as Credence squirmed for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between the window to his phone screen. There was a temptation that arose in the older man to pat Credence shoulder in a way to comfort him, but Percival resigned himself to checking the traffic.

Percival’s phone lights up and he knows already who it is. He sighs inwardly for a moment as he withheld himself from simply calling Seraphina, because Percival wanted to try his best to be present for Credence. Something Percival forgot when he cared for his first Foster case, Hannah, he had grown so busy that before he knew it, she grew up and left with an amount of disconnect shared between the two was comparable to a wide chasm, making it an awkward departure. It left Percival concluding he hadn’t done the proper job of being some kind of role model to Hannah, it was more of a business arrangement. She excelled academically and magically of course, but she ended up bonding to Tina far more than him, to a point that Percival wasn’t sure if he was meant to ever foster anyone at all. This time around, Percival wanted to do better for this case—for Credence, after everything the teen had been through it was the very least he could do; establish a far less emotionless relationship. Bringing Credence to his siblings and say farewell was a melancholy way of going about with it all, but Percival had never done this before.

When the car stops and Percival helps escort the teen out of the car, deciding this was a far too private matter for even his assistant to be a part of; because if the sibling were anything like Credence, they would want discretion too. Percival suspected Credence had deliberately cut his hair for his siblings to recognize him. The mushroom cut, the close-cut shave that shaped his undercut and sharp straight lines making Credence’s features angular and devoid of softness.

Percival caught on in the early morning of Credence plan to cut his hair, as he spent most of the morning looking for his shaving kit only to discover it being used in theoretical secrecy by the teen. Percival didn’t say a word to Credence about using his shaving kit without asking, he was far more interested with how the teen worked on his hair to create a mirage that was unbecoming of him, all for the sake of his siblings to know it was the same Credence they last saw.  

Percival made sure to keep his physical distance as he arranged the meeting, it was an empty classroom and a half hour timeframe before the final bell would ring off. Even with that considerate amount of time, Percival was sure there was no realistic amount of time that made sense to say goodbye to family. He watches sensibly as Credence enters the room, Chastity and Modesty already occupying the classroom. He made sure a teacher had escorted them a few minutes prior to their arrival.

It was strange to watch their interaction as the Barebones stared at each other for some time in silence. Percival didn’t know what to expect with them reuniting, hell, what should he expect? He assumed most cases would have tears of joy or sadness, or consolidating emotions. But they all merely observed each other cautiously, as if Mary Lou were still in the room with them; the weight of her volatile presence and scrutiny making them keep their heads down for a time. Credence didn’t utter a single word as he knelt down to their eye level, finally opening his bandaged palms and the siblings drew closer to him, his suggestion in body language taken as an invite. Percival watches intently, his jaw tightening as their hands skimmed over Credence’s bandaged palms. Modesty being the braver one to finally clasp the teen’s hand, looking directly into Credence’s eyes for a flicker of a second.

Watching the Barebones interact with each other was comparable to witnessing an artist create broken pieces of a distorted glass mosaic fall into place; fragile and vibrant, the attention to detail. As Chastity dared herself to touch Credence’s face decorously before retreating her affectionate notion, and all Credence does in return is reciprocate it by holding both the siblings hands. They finally whisper to each other and Percival keenly observes the kindness pouring through Credence as the teen’s thumbs brush the sibling’s hands smoothly, it was captivating to see the silver crescents flicker for a moment. The teen finally stands up to hug the two siblings for the remainder of the time, Percival witnesses in awe the peculiar way the Barebones say their farewells.  
  
For a moment, Percival felt a coiling in his chest, a sense of culpability towards the Barebones departing ways for the time being. It was obvious this wasn’t something anyone should ever have to go through; Credence felt isolated enough, that much was known from the teen’s actions. Percival anticipated withdrawal from Credence after this. He shook his pack of cigarettes and drew one out; a nasty habit he picked up again, staring at the Barebones brought upon many unresolved questions that stirred his mind about the dysfunctional family.

 

The stillness that enveloped the car during the commute back was to say the least in Percival’s wording, agitating, he could pick up on the abnormal silence from Credence. There was a distinct difference he observed over the course of Credence’s stay within his home; like the smallest of fidgeting sounds or the shuffle when the teen adjusted to any given situation, and his mumbling he couldn’t supress if he was thinking too deeply. These were mannerisms Percival noticed were very much absent in the magical teen as of this moment—it was all just vexatious silence.

The absence of sound would usually be a welcoming during commutes, they both had an opulent distaste for small talk. But this situation called upon different meanings; it was Credence absorbing the reality that his siblings were moving across the country, they would not be within arm’s length anymore. And Percival knew, Credence fought for his sister’s and did his best to protect them from Mary Lou’s atrocious violence she had stricken on them for God knows how many years.

Percival wasn’t sure of how to ease Credence hidden distraught after such an emotionally draining departing with his siblings. It wasn’t something Percival had ever experienced personally, sure, saying goodbye to his mother was difficult, but it didn’t compare to that of saying goodbye to siblings. Because this was a forced arrangement, an involuntary agreement that Credence had no say in.

Percival felt his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel to think of how much progress Credence made from their first meeting, to the evening he witnessed Credence artistic abilities. The man didn’t want to see Credence regress in the little progress he’s made, then Percival finalized an impromptu side-track from their drive home. He wasn’t sure how the teen would take the idea of changing the routine and direction they initially planned.

He detours down the main streets, the congested traffic not bothering Percival as much as he usually would feel. He suspected that his lack of annoyance drew from the fact that it wasn’t business related, the destination needed no rush. It didn’t take much time, he would pass cautious glances in the rear-view mirror, noticing that Credence eyes were widening as he was realizing that they were not going home—not yet.  Eventually he navigated the route towards Brooklyn, then the sights of the Brooklyn Bridge came into view.

“S… Sir?”

“You can call me Mr. Graves, if you wish, Credence.” Percival corrected as he pulled up to the Brooklyn Bridge Park, braking and parking the car he notes the absolute bewilderment on the teen’s face. Credence was not hiding the speechless anticipation in his eyes, the pout he usually held being dropped to an open awestruck ‘O’.

It took a moment for Credence to collect himself as he softly asks, “M-Mr. Graves, why are we… here?”

“A walk, would you like to join me?” Percival’s usual glower leaves his features as he permits himself a leering expression, to reassure the teen that this was something that perhaps they both wanted—no, needed. He picks up on the fact Credence droops his head, dejecting himself in a way of avoiding eye contact. As if the invitation for a walk were a double-edged sword.

Percival clears his throat as he adds, “I believe a great cabalistic saying goes along the lines of ‘ _painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight_ ’, and an artist needs to experience their muse.”

Credence is still for a moment, his sights finally catching the older man’s steady gaze. Thinking sizably of Percival’s wording, then nods his head, “I’ll join you for the walk.”

Their walk is shared in silence for a time, but it’s the kind that Percival had come to understand a good one, far different from their car ride. It was in Credence body language and his eyes that gave away a lot more than the boy was probably aware of. To most, nobody would notice the excitement that decorated the teen’s amber eyes as he looked at the Brooklyn Bridge with a starry expression, and the corners of his mouth curving in the slightest to an evident display of delight.

Percival gapes around, couples and tourists walking along the pathway. The sun was beginning to go down as the glint of oranges, pinks, blues, and yellows hit the bridge in such a way that there was only one word to describe it: Magic. Both of them pause to watch the sunset on the busy city, Percival steals a quick look at Credence and there it was, the magic the teen has illuminating from his eyes that mirror the gorgeous sunset with those familiar silver crescents. It was profound to witness Credence, despite the bruising that lined his eye and neck, the teen’s remarkable beauty. It was a discreet kind of beauty; the type that mesmerised only those that watched long enough and carefully to notice the long eyelashes, the contours that shaped his face making it bold and unique, right down to the tiniest scars that added wordless character. Scars Percival was tempted to touch with a delicate nature, and just what kind of a reaction he could elicit from Credence.   

Percival immediately stops himself from staring as he is towards Credence, feeling the sudden twitched longing in his free hand. Clearing his throat and stepping back, he was thankful that Credence was much more captivated by the sunset and the bridge. Because the weight of Percival’s own stare made him have to mentally backtrack just how attached he was getting to the teen, far too observant of Credence. Just what the hell was he trying to do, staring as he was towards his Foster case? Percival hissed at himself in exasperation as he resolves back to his usual iron glower.

Percival chooses to make use with his wandering eyes by spotting a truck selling various snacks and drinks, “I’ll be right back, stay here.” He walks away before getting an answer from Credence, because he was beginning to dread staring at those tawny eyes—they stirred something in the man he wasn’t quite ready to put into words.  


He rejoins the teen with two cups in hand, he passes the one on his left to Credence, the teen eyes the drink shiftily. “It’s hot chocolate.”

Credence bites his lip then nods his head as he clasps the cup, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Percival takes a long drink from his cup of coffee as they continue their stroll towards the bridge. The desire to replace the coffee with a brandy that would make him less pensive was sounding more and more inviting as he mulls over his exasperating thoughts.  


They walk for a time in mutual silence as the streetlights illuminate their path and the cooling temperature makes their breath visible. Percival remarks that Credence didn’t look as sleepy as he usually did. The teen slept so deeply and often since arriving, that he was like an apparition in the house on most evenings.

“It’s nice to see you up, Credence,” Percival takes a risk with stating that so openly, knowing that it was probably not in the best way to start up a conversation. He knew how to close arguments with perfection and calculative ease but with Credence, however, he was never sure what precisely to say to the teen.  “I was starting to worry… with you sleeping so much,”

“Please, sir…. Mr. Graves, don’t worry… I think,” he looks down at his cup then up to the bridge with wonder still so very present on his features, “I never woke up on a soft bed before, it scared me at first…”

They continue to walk for a time as Credence shyly eyes Percival as if asking permission to elaborate further, when they share brief eye contact he continues, “It was frightening to wake up to such a… luxury… I kept thinking ‘oh, it must be a dream’…. I slept on an old box spring, sir, sometimes I would test Ma and she’d force me to repent all night… I’d fall asleep to vesper at the altar for forgiveness. So I kept going back to sleep expecting to wake up from this…”

Percival didn’t expected that kind of revelation from Credence, it was sobering and threw him into a state of perceptive shock. Credence was full of surprises and Percival felt his throat go dry as he fixed himself on taking a long draw of his coffee. He lights a cigarette before clearing his throat, Credence drinks his hot chocolate, bandaged hands encircled around the cup like he could insulate the heat of the cup in his hands.

Before Percival can get a word out after finishing his smoke, he notices Credence staring at a couple under a streetlight. The soft jazz playing in the background by a small group of performing musicians, coupled with the pair dance together swaying eloquently to the music; it was nostalgic to watch. Percival observes the couple then his sights trace back to Credence, there’s an evident painstaking longing in Credence eyes. It clicks in Percival’s head that Credence probably never had the chance to dance, the way Mary Lou treated the Barebones, snuffing them of any remote normalcy and guidance it would be a miracle if Credence even knew how to dance. The music slows down and Percival knows the song immediately and chuckles to himself, it’s a rendition of New York State of Mind.

“Would you like me to teach you how to dance to a slow song?”  
  
Credence eyes widen, shaking his head as a red hue rises to his cheeks, “Oh, no, Mr. Graves…”

“Credence, I insist,” Percival sets his coffee down on an empty bench, the teen bites his lip deciding to silently comply and places his drink down as well. “After all, one day you’ll dance with a lady and it will help knowing how to.”

Credence bashfully nods, holding his elbow as he awkwardly waits. Percival steps in front of the teen, “I’ll take the lead and walk you through it. First, take my hand,”

The teen hesitantly brings up his right hand, Percival takes the offering hand that was nearly shaking to his left shoulder, “Rest your hand here, as the lead you need to place your hand on the waist like so,” 

Percival places his left hand to the side of Credence, even with the layers on the teen, he was still floating in the garments. “Now, with your other hand you can choose to place on the other hip and keep at arm’s length or take your partners hand and lead them.”

Credence nods eagerly as Percival wasn’t sure it was the cold temperature or the fact Credence had never danced before, but the hue of red that marred his cheeks were cherry red. He accepts Credence hand and takes the lead, “Well, when you dance with a girl you want to be sure that you keep eye contact. Now, you follow my lead,”  
  
The first couple of steps is awkward as Credence shakily follows. Percival could tell Credence was overthinking and far too nervous so he interjects the obvious fluster with a smile, “Don’t overthink it, just follow the music and my lead, okay?”

Credence bites his lip and nods, “Okay, I’ll do my best.”  

They sway and dance in the motion, Credence hesitation and the knotting in the teen’s shoulders relax. Percival chuckles, “Now, as the lead you need to make sure that when you change things up, keep your balance and always place your hand on the lower base of the back.”

“W… Why?” Credence whispers, as they step together and Percival changes the position.

“So when you dip back, especially the lady you plan to dance with,” he explains as he repositions his hands, holding the small of Credence back and steps forward, “when she leans back like you’re about to, she doesn’t fall.”

Credence follows the motion and bows back and falls into the dip, and despite how flush and shaky he is there’s a small curve to the side of the teen’s mouth. “Oh, that makes sense…”

Percival pulls Credence back into the dance as the music plays, but Percival was much more focused on the teen’s face. There’s a breathless titter that escapes Credence’s lips as their eyes meet and they dance for a time. An obvious delight decorating Credence face with the same wondrous expression he had on the bridge, but this was slightly different with the rosiness on his cheeks that never left since they started dancing.

Once the song ends they both mutually stop and Percival steps back, “Okay, would you like to take the lead now?”

Credence shakes his head, “No… I think I’m fine with what you taught me… Thank you, Mr. Graves.”  
  
Percival nods, “Okay, would you like to head back and call it a day?”

Credence agrees, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They pick up their cups and walk for a time in silence, then Percival notices the teen making subtle eye contact from his cup to him. The teen was trying his best not to look obvious but Percival knew better than to mistake the eye contact as nothing.

He coughs and brings out another smoke as he lights it, “Is there anything you wish to talk about, Credence?”

“Um, about school and… magic.”

“Yes?” Percival quirks a curious brow to the teen.  

“I… I think I want to go to the arts university…. I want to learn magic, I do… but just the basics, if…. If that’s okay?” Credence takes a long drink, his eyes keeping firmly on the ground. 

He must have been thinking about this for some time, and it was obvious with how the teen worded it. It was careful and still the tone he spoke was dreading that Percival would somehow say no, he was anticipating a negative answer from the man.

“Credence, I will support whatever decision you make. Is this what you want?”

Credence nods his head, “Yes.”

“Then it’s settled,” Percival takes his hand and ruffles Credence hair as a way of antidoting the teen’s evident brooding over bringing up this conversation. He felt a sense of pride that Credence decided this himself and brought it up on his own. “Art school it is,”

They both continue their walk in a mutual silence that was welcomed by both in a wordless agreement. Something Percival was beginning to consider a normalcy he’d like to implement into his daily life. If Credence would permit it, Percival thought. For now, though, Percival relished in the pride that at least Credence smiled tonight, despite everything else.  
  
\- 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your patience and continuing to read and give this a shot!  
> Things are going to start to make a dramatic turn in the next chapter, I promise!  
> Please comment and kudos; you're giving jewels/gold to a needy Niffler!


	6. The Charity Ordeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival holds a Charity event and things go not quite as planned once he realizes an attendee has history with Credence.

   
**The Charity Ordeal**  
  
  
-

A month had gone by in an unlikely blur for Percival, having work consume him for some time and Credence attending university a week after their walk at the Brooklyn Bridge; the man rarely had time for the teen. The few times he did see Credence occurred in the night, mainly his sleepwalking, which Percival had grown used to. He was thankful that the weekly therapy sessions with Queenie helped Credence with managing his night terrors, the communication even nonverbal had improved drastically between him and Credence. The other rare moment he caught Credence was the early mornings; where they would share breakfast in silence as the teen would scribble in his sketchbook.

Seeing how Credence’s recent comfortability in the house when Percival got the chance to see him, it reassured the man that he was at least doing something right. The man now noticed items linger around the large space that reminded him that even when he didn’t see Credence upon arriving home, the teen’s presence was there. It was reminded in paintbrushes around the sink, charcoal pieces on countertops, and canvases splayed about in the house as a sign of Credence’s spur of artistic inspiration. The two maids that Percival hired, however, did not appreciate the teen’s untidiness and strongly desired to clean it, but Percival insisted that only by his explicit permission were they allowed to touch the items.

Today, Percival was unsure of how Credence would react about the house being an exclusive charity event. It was a yearly event that Seraphina had pushed upon Percival over the years in order to create good business rapport between them and No-Maj’s. The event raised money for the Foster System and the connections made were usually in Percival and Seraphina’s favor, but having Credence under his roof, it left Percival in a very vexing position. He did not desire to see the teen uncomfortable after finally getting into a routine, and seeming to regain a sort of normalcy Percival assumed Credence never had prior to living with him.  
  
Percival gazes out at the New York backdrop of the city as he inhales his smoke, noticing the snow starting to fall, nipping at him as the winter season was overtaking the city. He sighs deeply as his phone buzzes off with texts, he had one of his assistants already organize the event to the standards that Seraphina always expected. Percival checks his phone and notices Credence replied to his warning text he sent earlier in regards to what the teen should expect with the house and it being occupied for once.

Before he can finish his smoke he turns to see Credence already in the house, weaving passed the hired staff setting up the final details, a mixture of practicality and magic decorating the large space. Immediately Percival ashes out his smoke in a tray and enters the house, Credence staring at him with a perplexing gaze. The man forgot that Credence never saw him dressed in a tuxedo, usually he would be dressed in a much more business outfit and when home for some days, he would dress casually but this was a much more formal event. And with formal events, it called upon a reserved and cohesive statement piece; this was a custom made tuxedo, everything was black, right down to the black scorpion cufflinks.

“Hey,” Percival comments as he approaches the teen.

He watches Credence awkwardly scratch the back of his head as he avoids eye contact for a moment. Credence’s dishevelled look was like a visual feast to Percival; an off-white sweater that was littered in holes hanging off the teen’s shoulders with a black shirt underneath, and black jeans that had slits on the knees to match. The outfit didn’t look like it hung off the teen like his clothes used to a month ago, the steady weight gain was beginning to show to Percival’s personal delight,  “Uh, hi.”

“What?” Percival quirks a brow as he adjusts his bowtie and his eyesight, “Too much?”

Credence shakes his head, “No… you look… good.”

“I would hope so, this event usually requires me overdressed.”

“Do you not like suits, Mr. Graves?”  
  
“I much prefer my usual attire,” he admits in a grunt as his phone buzzes off, “Credence, it’s up to you on joining the event or not, I won’t pressure you.”

“Will Tina and Queenie be joining…?” Credence shyly asks, perking his head up in a way that displayed his personal hopefulness.  

“Yes, they were invited, speaking of which…” Percival checks his phone, “They’re both here and the guests should be arriving any moment.”  
  
“Oh… I’ll go upstairs and change then…” Credence comments absently as he picks at a piece of paint on his sweater, the bandages still wrapped around his arms dirtied with dry paint as well.   
  
Percival reaches out and pats Credence head, ruffling through the teen’s onyx hair that was outgrowing rapidly since Credence cut it. “Sure, take the time you need, I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”

There’s a bashful curve to Credence’s mouth as he nods, “Okay.”

Once the valets and maids welcomed the guests, it became a buzz of voices, numbing handshakes and small talk for Percival, and the man hardly took interest in it as he awaited for Seraphina to arrive. But as usual, she would show up at the exact time the event starts; the woman was never early or late, always on time.

As he checks his phone baiting time until Seraphina’s arrival, Percival can feel the itch come up to grab a drink, a cognac seemed the most appropriate for the event. He beelines his way to the bar that was setup strictly for the fundraiser, wasting no time in entertaining anyone. Placing his order, he gazes around the expansive space, endless bodies of overly dressed elite wizards, witches, and No-Maj’s bored his eyes as the back of his mind, he wondered if Credence would truly come down to the event. As Percival is handed his drink a tap to his shoulder halts him from taking a sip, his sights land on Queenie and Tina smiling at him both dressed in extravagant outfits.

“Did Queenie let you borrow the dress?” Percival let the playful jab slip as he finally allowed himself his long awaited drink. It burns down his throat soothingly as he watches Tina blush and roll her eyes.

“If this weren’t such a formal event, Graves—” Tina hisses under her breath in annoyance as she stops herself. “Where’s Credence?”

“He’s upstairs, I’m pretty sure. I told him he’s welcome to the event.”

Tina bites her lip, “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Queenie nods, “I agree, I don’t think this event is appropriate for him…”

Percival takes a long drink, handing two glasses of champagne to Tina and Queenie, “Hmm, perhaps, but the boy can make his own decisions.”

Tina scoffs as she accepts the glass, “Graves, this event is about cases like Credence… really, you don’t want to make him into a commodity. These people don’t look at Credence like we do…” 

Queenie sips her glass of champagne then smiles her infamous smile, “May we check up on him and ask him how he feels about it?”

Percival nods thinking of Tina’s worry for a moment, “I appreciate both of your concerns with him and you’re welcome to talk him,” just as he takes another long draw of his drink he’s immediately distracted by Seraphina entering into the house. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to cut this short.”  
  
He couldn’t waste time when it came to Seraphina’s arrival, because the woman was not someone to be messed with. Percival punctually makes his way through the endless crowd, when a man slightly shorter than him bumps into him.

“Mr. Graves,” the man leers with a toothy grin that Percival knew was a conman smile. “I apologize on my father’s behalf for not being able to attend the event. But you know the old man, falling ill in his older years takes a toll.”

It takes a moment for Percival to sort through his memory just whom exactly this man was, “Ah, yes,”

“Henry Shaw,” he adds as if reading Percival’s mind, puffing up his chest and shaking hands with an assertiveness that didn’t settle well with Percival. “It’s good to finally meet you, I have heard so much about you from my father.”

“Junior, right?” Percival adds as he passively answers, “Thank you for attending, I hope you enjoy the hospitality, feel free to grab a drink.”  
  
“Mr. Graves,” the familiar voice interrupts Percival’s dismiss of Henry as it was Seraphina to his side.

“Always dressed to impress,” Percival turns his attention to Seraphina. She was dressed in an elegant black dress that was garnished in diamonds, the details glinting under the lighting of the house. “You look stunning.”

She gives an entertained smile to Percival’s comment. Already tapping her nails on the tall glass of champagne in hand, “A moment of your time, Graves.”

“Of course,” they walk to a less crowded area of the house, the snowfall over the city in their view as Seraphina takes a generous sip of her drink.

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked. You’ve outdone yourself with this event.”

“Ah, yes.” Percival swirls the glass as he places his one hand in his suit pocket. “I’ve been busy.”

“Naturally,” she comments as she turns to look at him, “taking a Foster case can be consuming.”

“You could say that…” He felt the weighted stare that Seraphina carried with her authoritative presence.

“I’ll admit, Graves, it surprised me when I found out about you accepting a Foster case. It’s been nearly a decade.”

“Between us, Seraphina, I surprised myself with the decision…”

“Hmm,” she hums as she mimicked the very same deadpan mien that Percival always maintained, “it got me curious as to what about his case that made you decide to take him in.”

“He’s different,” Percival solemnly admits as he recalls the cabalistic nature in Credence’s eyes from their day at the Brooklyn Bridge. “There’s a certain magic to him that I can’t pin precisely what it is about him, but after reading the files that were given… It made sense to have him under my care.”  

“His case is very complicated, the investigation into the Barebones has left the departments with more questions than answers.” Seraphina admits bitterly as she prudishly takes another sip of her drink. “Have you still kept in contact with Hannah?”  
  
Before Percival can answer a clatter of feet speed up to him and Seraphina. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Madam Picquery.” Tina rasps, “We need to speak with you, Graves,”  
  
Percival raises his brows as the worry in Tina’s face wasn’t nearly as alarming as Queenie’s almost tearful eyes as she utters, “Credence needs you.” 

Percival’s cool expression immediately vanishes as he doesn’t waste time explaining to Seraphina his sudden leave setting his drink aside, he rushes with Tina and Queenie by his side, “What happened?”

“He came down to talk to us and he was mingling with other people curious of him…” Tina comments as she takes the lead, “We grabbed some drinks when we lost track of him.”

Queenie shakes her head as she tries to compose herself, “I felt as if my heart was about to explode and I knew right away it’s Credence’s anxiety…”

“Where is he, Tina?”

“He’s in the bathroom upstairs. That’s where Queenie sensed the anxiety.”            
  
The man was almost leaping two steps at a time as he jolted up the stairs towards the bathroom. Queenie and Tina barely able to keep up with him, but Percival could feel an unmistakeable sense of urgency in needing to see Credence. 

“I know these types of anxieties, Mr. Graves… The poor boy can be triggered into a fit of hysteria or worse, an induced episode…” Queenie breathes in a wounded tone.

“He won’t answer to either of us, Graves.” Tina shakes her head, “We knew he trusts you the most, so we figured it would be best if you try talking to him…”

“Thank you both,” Percival adds as they arrive to the bathroom door. “How long has he been in there?”

Queenie shakes her head, “Twenty minutes, give or take… the poor honey…”

Percival finally knocks on the door, “It’s me, Mr. Graves, Credence. Let me know if you’re okay…”

Queenie and Tina exchange worried stares to Percival as there’s silence on the other side of the door. The man sighs as he brings out his phone and texts Credence, ‘you don’t need to speak if you don’t wish to. Let me see that you’re okay.’

They wait a moment as Percival’s phone buzzes off with the teen’s reply only being, ‘I’ll open the door if it’s just you.’  
  
Percival nods his head as he gazes at Tina and Queenie, “I’ve got this, he’s going to be okay. Just go back down to the charity and make sure nobody notices I’m missing.”

They agree as they finally leave and head back down the stairs, Percival waits until he knows that he and Credence are alone as he knocks. “Credence, it’s just us now… I’m going to open the door, okay?”

He listens closely to the door as he hears a sniffle and takes it as an acknowledgement and proceeds to open the door. Percival’s usual stoic face is crushed as his eyes land on Credence crying, his bandages loosened and practically dangling off his hands as he tries to wipe his eyes, whimpering between hiccups. This pangs at Percival’s heart as he immediately steps closer to Credence, closing the door behind them.

“What happened?” Percival asks in what he can manage as a calm tone, trying his best to withhold the emotions that swept across his mind seeing how distraught the teen is.

“I… I saw someone here, someone I used to know from living with Ma…” Credence mumbles as he sniffles, the tears embellishing his flushed cheeks.

Upon instinct Percival closes in on the teen and attentively brushes the fresh tears cradling Credence’s face, “Who caused you to feel this way, Credence?” the man looks down at the teens exposed arms that are lined with scars, some were old and deep, other’s superficial.

Credence immediate awareness of Percival’s sight on his scars causes the teen to flinch away from the man, pulling back. Percival realizes he’s overstepped a boundary by gazing at the teen’s arms, with a deep sigh he kneels down opening his hands and wordlessly grabs the bandages that are loosely draped around Credence and places each bundle into the teen’s hands.  
  
“Let me help you put them back on.” Percival offers gently.

The teen agrees and watches in apprehension as like a frightened animal, he shakily allows the man to wrap the bandages around his arms. As Percival places them back around the teen’s arms, Credence whimpers in a broken tone, “I… I remember his name being Shaw… Henry… He used to come around and talk to me when I’d hand out leaflets…. He would get me so distracted that by the time I got home… Ma wasn’t happy.”  
  
Percival can feel anger bubbling in his blood realizing that Henry had purposely put Credence endanger, and somehow the man snuck his way into the charity event. The unruly emotions that coursed in Percival’s sudden protective nature roused him to want to find Henry straightaway and punch the man in the face. He stops himself from allowing his emotions to overtake his mind as he finishes wrapping the bandages.  
  
Percival gets up and inspects Credence, tenderly wiping the tears away from the teen’s face in a soothing motion, “Are you okay?”      

Credence subtly leans into Percival’s thoughtful touch and hand, then slowly nods, “It… It shocked me to see him…”

“Did he speak to you?”

Credence looks away in shame, “Will you be mad by my answer, Mr. Graves?”

Percival shakes his head, “No, Credence. I just want the truth, did he talk to you?”

Credence slowly nods, “He did, sir…”

“What did he say?”

“He…” Credence bashfully turns his head away, Percival felt a jerk in his hands as he’s tempted to grab the teens chin and force them to look eye to eye, but he resists as Credence finally meets with his eyes. “He… He told me I didn’t belong here… That I’m as crazy as Ma… It’s my fault, I should’ve stayed upstairs…”

The tears well up on Credence’s puffy eyes as the flushness that tarnishes the teens face in embarrassment for having to repeat the words, recounting the venomous comment that Henry spoke, was visually upsetting the teen. The way the teen’s lips tremble sent an automatic jolt in Percival as he embraces Credence into his arms and gently pats the teen’s head.

“No, Credence, it wasn’t your fault. I should’ve kept an eye on you, what Henry said is a lie. You’re not crazy, you’re an exceptionally talented man. You belong here.” Percival says in reassurance as he feels Credence nod against him, finally loosening his grip to see the teen’s rosy face as Credence bites his lip then gets closer to the man and sighs against Percival’s chest.

“Thank you, Mr. Graves.” He whispers.

Once Percival releases his arms around Credence, stepping away and adjusts his suit, “You can go to your room or back down, I will be escorting Henry out.”

Credence timidly nods grabbing his elbow awkwardly as he watches Percival, “Okay.”

Percival left the bathroom with a purpose to his step as he was determine to find Henry. Usually Percival could withhold his emotions and approach situations with logic and ease. But after seeing Credence distraught and hurt, the man could care less about manners or the charity event. He solely desired to personally escort Henry out with a colorful arrangement of words he was sure the man wouldn’t forget.  
  
It didn’t take long for him to find Henry, the man was doing his best to make himself a pinnacle of attention. With a firm grip he grabs Henry by the shoulder, the prideful smile spread across the man’s face infuriated Percival to not end. To think the man had the audacity to speak to Credence the way he did, Percival would’ve settled with punching Henry but that was his old Detroit lifestyle spilling into his thoughts.

“Ah, Mr. Graves,” Henry grins but it falters in mere seconds as Percival’s cold stare changed the atmosphere in the room. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, I want you to leave.” Percival states matter-of-factly, his emotions teetering on the notion that perhaps Henry would be a wiser man and simply leave.  

Henry lifts his expression and tries to laugh it off, “Excuse me, I was invited here?”

“You’re excused to leave, Shaw.” Percival withholds himself from merely grabbing the man and wiping the snarky grin off his face. He can feel the urge to physically assault the man for disrespecting Credence but devices a better plan as he leans in Henry’s ear, “Speaking to my Foster as indecently as you did in my own home is room enough for me to escort you out. I find it strange that a grown man is talking to a teenager that he has no business in speaking to, much less insulting him and insinuating he doesn’t belong in my own home. Now, if you don’t leave, I will show you why magic is to be feared. Are we clear?”

Percival removes himself from the close proximity and witnesses the blood leave Henry’s cheery face. The obvious fear and embarrassment sweeps across the man’s face immediately as he hisses, “This isn’t over.”

“It is for you, now leave or I will make you.” Percival warns, the crowd watching as the two stare at each other like it were clouts being exchanged until Henry eventually backs down. 

With a gruff shove, Henry walks to the foyer but not before announcing loudly, “Keep a leash on your dog, Picquery!”

The boiling point of tolerating Henry reaches its climax as without much thought, Percival makes his way to the man stridently passed curious eyes. He lands a punch square on Henry’s face, the man is vaulted back at the power of Percival’s punch and the surprised look on his face was something Percival relished in.

“I warned you, Shaw.” Percival holds his right hand, ignoring the gasps of the crowd, “I never want to see your face again.”    

“You crazy sonofabitch! You’re done!” Henry retaliates as he holds his face, a valet opening the door nervously handing Henry the keys.

It amused Percival to see Henry try to intimidate him with empty threats, “We’ll see about that.”

As Henry leaves with a string of curses and resentful eyes, Percival turns his attention to Seraphina’s fuming gaze. It was obvious how angry she was, and the man practically feared her stare as she narrowed her sights on him.

“I do apologize about that, the man had far too much to drink.” Percival tries to quip and dissolve the tension in the room. “Let the charity continue,”

Seraphina’s glower did not compare to her words as she grabs Percival to the other side of the house, “What in the hell were you thinking? Do you know what you just did?! What possessed you to think that was remotely acceptable behavior!”

“He taunted me, Seraphina,” Percival excuses, “I guess I couldn’t be logical about the situation.”

“You guess? Graves, his father owns one of the major media companies here—we created this event to bring people together not to have a Fight Club.”

“Good movie, poor comparison, Seraphina.” Percival shakes his wounded hand as it was beginning to get taut from the raw force he used to punch Henry.

“ ** _Percival_** —” She snaps in her tone. “What you just did was moronic, borderline stupid! Was it worth it? All that trouble to shut him up!”

“Absolutely,” Percival was ready to laugh as he looks at his swollen knuckles, “I own half of their stocks and I know the investors in the Shaw’s company. If you think Senior will make a move over his son embarrassing him, you’re wrong. I have things under control, Seraphina.”

“Control? You made a scene, a tasteless scene at that, Graves.”

“I’ll kiss ass and send ‘Thank You’ flowers to every attendee if that’s what you are thinking.”

“Damage control, Graves. It’s not only you, it’s me as well, what you did was reckless. Did you think for a second about the implications of your actions?”

“I thought about it,” Percival brushes his thumb over his middle knuckle, “but I can’t ever seem to shake off bad habits.”

“You haven’t lived in Detroit for a long time, Graves.”

“Isn’t there a saying along the lines of, ‘you can take the boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the boy’?”

“You’re impossible, Graves,” Seraphina groans, her obvious annoyance towards Percival’s impassive accountability didn’t amuse her. “Look, I’m going back to do damage control—damage you caused, and hopefully people still want to be here.”

“I’ll join soon, I need a smoke.” Percival comments as he needed to sway the adrenaline out of his veins, if he had it his way, he would’ve punched Henry until the man had no teeth left. Permanently wiping the smug grin from the man and snuffing him of ever having the confidence to speak again.

Once outside, Percival lights a much needed cigarette and sighs, shaking the adrenaline out of his system. Seraphina was right, Percival knew that, he should’ve ignored the last comment Henry made but the thought of the man making Credence cry made him beyond logical thinking. He hisses as the cold wind licks at his bruised knuckles as he inhales his cigarette. Much to his surprise, out of the haze of his personal brooding, he notices Queenie standing next to him.

“Queenie, always a pleasure. Did you enjoy the show?” Percival’s bitter sarcasm coming off dry and unenthusiastically.

“I know why you hit Henry Shaw, and I’m not one to condone violence,” she shivers from the cold as she grips her arms, staring at Percival, “but I’m glad you did it.”

Percival chuckles, “Unexpected from you of all people, Queenie.”

“What he said to Credence was unforgivable.”

“Always the curious witch, reading minds and emotions,”

“Your mind wasn’t quiet about it.”

“I suppose it wasn’t,” Percival exhales the smoke, the nicotine cooling his emotions.  
  
“You really care about him.” Queenie states as she smiles at the sky, “I’m glad you do. You both need each other. I’m going inside, it’s far too cold.”  
  
She leaves him to contemplate on her words, and Percival chuckles to himself. He had made a rash decision, but it was most certainly worth it. Seeing Henry’s shock and make him as uncomfortable as he made Credence was something that Percival felt incredibly right about. Putting his smoke out, Percival takes a deep breath and proceeds inside to brace himself, charming people always exhausted him. And tonight, he would have to practice his best social pizzazz to appease the crowd that most certainly awaited his presence in anticipation.

   


By the end of the night, Percival wanted a strong drink; he didn’t desire anymore socializing with people for a long while. Once the house was finally cleared and back to its usual décor, the man undid his tie and unbutton his collar as he took out his personal best cognac he kept stored in his cabinet. Pouring the drink he listens to the patter of familiar feet as he makes his way to his reclining chair, sighing as he takes a seat, combing his injured hand through his styled hair.

His eyes are drawn to Credence staring at him momentarily before the teen’s eyes cast down to the floor, his hand awkwardly grabbing his elbow. Percival takes back the drink and polishes it off before he decides to speak to the teen.

“Yes, Credence?” he watches the teen  timidly approaching him.

“… You’re hurt,” Credence murmurs so lowly that Percival could barely catch it.

“Ah, yes, well…” Percival smirks to himself reflecting on the punch, “Worth it.”

Credence’s face flushes as he outstretches his bandage hands to Percival, asking nonverbally to see the wound. Percival obliges as he observes Credence, this was something so out of character from him that the man was bewildered by the teen’s boldness. The touch was thoughtful as the teen’s long fingers pass on the bruised knuckles, each finger gingerly tender in its touch to his knuckles.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers in an apologetic tone. “I didn’t want this to happen… for you to get hurt.”  

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Credence. He hurt you to begin with,” Percival reasons out, using his injured hand to clasp Credence hand, he holds an absolute stare into the teen’s amber eyes. “And that, in my books, is something he had to pay for.”  

There’s a teary expression in Credence’s eyes as he bites his pouting bottom lip, “… At your expense… I got you hurt and in trouble.”

“No,” Percival shakes his head, his thumb rubbing the top of Credence’s hand considerately. “I decided to hit him. You didn’t make me, I wanted to.”  
  
“Did… Did you mean it when you said I’m not crazy?”

“Oh, Credence… You’re not crazy, not one bit.” He lets go of Credence’s hand and sighs, “If anything, I proved I’m a little crazy tonight.”

For the first time since being under his roof, Credence gently titters at his comment and it was all Percival needed to know that striking Henry was worth the repercussions of his impetuous outburst. Percival chuckles as he couldn’t help but follow Credence’s lead, the whole ridiculousness of the situation. It relieved him to see a small smile on the boy’s face, and Percival took a mental note that he would want to see Credence smile and laugh a lot more, even if it was at his own expense.  

“Thank you, Mr. Graves…” Credence’s face is rosy as he breathes out, “I… I’m glad you’re okay.”       
  
There’s a strong temptation and an impulse Percival has to resist in simply hugging Credence, because the boy was selfless despite everything. Credence was always thinking of others and it resonated in Percival that perhaps Queenie was right after all. They needed each other. Percival’s selfish nature was coming to a head of yearning to protect Credence, the teen brought out his irrational emotions and that was proven tonight.  
  
No matter what, Percival wanted to make sure he was the source of Credence happiness and to heal the scars that lined the boy in so many ways.  
  
  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW IT'S BEEN A HOT MIN, IM SORRY. I'M GOING TO BE MUCH MORE FREQUENT.  
> please comment/kudos, you're giving a needy Niffler jewels/gold!  
> I truly hope the wait was worth it, as the next chapters coming up is going to be a trip!


	7. Painting a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival arrives home to an unexpected visitor, and Credence needs a little help with his semi-final project.

**Painting a Memory**  
  
  
-  
  
  
When Percival arrives home after a taxing day of lengthy meetings and handling the post-charity debacle, he hardly anticipated to find an extra pair of shoes and the sound of chatter in his spacious house. Mr. Abernathy gave an inquisitive look to Percival and the man dismisses him immediately for the evening. He didn’t waste time heading up the stairs to the source of noise and presence in his home, much to his personal surprise he walks up to Credence studio room, usually the door was shut when the teen was immersed in painting. But this evening Credence left the door open and Percival enters the room to a man posing as Credence painted, he automatically recognized the man as Newt Scamander.

Newt was a strange wizard, Percival recalled that much when he met the man ten years ago. Newt was in his late teen years and already was quite the talented and enigmatic boy, always overshadowed by his brother, Theseus. That’s how Percival met Newt, through his brother that was orchestrating their own Foster system in the U.K., Theseus was nothing like Newt; proud, commanding, and not remotely shy. And when Percival met Newt the first time, the boy never held up direct eye contact and took little to no interest in the reasoning why Percival was visiting the Scamander home; he was more concerned about magical creatures and endangered wildlife than anything else. He was an awkwardly tall, and very strange teenager.

Seeing Newt have the same inability to maintain eye contact was a refreshing reminder that Newt was still the same in some aspects since they last saw each other. And Newt immediately recognized him as they nodded at each other.

“Newt Scamander,” Percival acknowledges as he furthers into the room, “it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Mr. Graves...” Newt held the pose as he tensely glanced at Credence. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I could say the same to you,” Percival pauses as his eyes fixate on Credence, the teen was already flush as he held his oval palette and placed his paint brush down, stepping back from his easel and canvas.

“You two know each other…?” The teen mumbles as he steps away from his creative corner to look at Percival, there’s an obvious nervousness in his body language.

“We know each other from my business trips to London. And Newt is well known for his essays on endangered species,” Percival didn’t mention Theseus as that overshadowing scholar and wizard always kept Newt seeming insignificant to his own family name and identity. “What brings you here to New York, Scamander?”

Newt finally releases his pose, “To gain my Master’s degree for Wildlife I was assigned work placement here.”

“No programs available in the U.K.?”  
  
“Incongruously, I have to garner hours with Muggles and studying their educational system to be able to teach both Wizards and Muggles. A new credential they added into the system, and oversea Muggles is motivating—a challenge of sorts,” Newt timidly smirks as he gazes at the painting, “I chose the easiest class to help assist, I didn’t expect someone like Credence to be among all those Muggles. He was the only one that didn’t bombard me with useless questions.”

“Ah, it comes as no surprise, he’s a sharp artist.” Percival nods supportively with his peripheral vision he notices Credence face become a dusty rose color.

“I ought to add that he’s proven to me that art is much more complex than I anticipated, he’s been teaching me a lot on how to better understand Muggles artistry,” Newt admits with a modest tone.

“Newt offered to teach me magic…” Credence interjects in a mumble as he fidgets with the hem of his sweater, eyes casted down like it was an omission.

“Really?” Percival raises a brow in Newt’s direction.

Newt clears his throat, “Well, he agreed that the basics is what he’s comfortable with… I figure you could convince Credence to advance faster, as a fellow wizard you’d encourage him.”

Percival would be lying to himself if he didn’t feel some sort of wariness towards their sudden kinship and Newt avid enthusiasm to teaching the teen magic. But seeing Credence stepping out of his comfort zone and to have Newt watch over him when Percival couldn’t, it set his mind at ease. “That’s not up to me, it’s up to Credence.”  
  
The teen shakes his head carefully, “I… I’m just wanting to take things slow… I have a lot of projects to finish for semi-finals anyways…”    

“He takes more interest in Muggles ways than I do,” Newt confesses with a sigh as if his hopes were diminished on teaching Credence advanced magic.

“You could learn from him, Scamander,” Percival adds as he steps away, “I’ll let you two get back to work.” Placing his hand on Credence head and rustles the soft raven hair watching Credence shyly smile back to the playful gesture.     

It was gratifying for Percival to see Credence lighten up, but he added a mental note that he would talk to Credence about letting him know ahead of time if the teen was going to invite people over. He leaves the room and heads down the stairs to grab himself a much deserved drink, so he could unwind from the busy day, listening carefully to the chatter of Newt and Credence newly developed friendship.

  
Several days pass in this odd routine where Percival would arrive home to Credence and Newt occupying the second floor, filling the house with small talk and clatter of art tools. The friendship mildly troubled Percival at first, as witnessing Credence being innocuous with his openness to Newt was unexpected of the teen, but he concluded that they understood each other in a way that he did not. It took some time for Percival to get adjust to their kinship when presented with their immediate closeness, but he grew to understand that they were both learning from each other as peers.

Percival comes home to the usual extra pair of shoes as he dismisses Mr. Abernathy for the evening, this time he overhears Newt sounding frustrated as his voice echoed off in the house. Percival shrugs off his coat, thinking of having a smoke after dealing with a particularly tiring day of business conferences. Before he could follow through on his bad habit, he’s roused to see what made Newt irritated as the wizard rarely ever expressed that type of behavior. 

The man didn’t anticipate walking in to Credence holding a pose with a paint brush in a bizarre way at first. The lighting made Credence look ethereal as he changed his position to sitting on his knees and his paint brush being held in a devotion to the holiness of art, added with the accessories adorning the teen  reinforced this imagery was an immediate tantalizing display to Percival.   

“This bloody thing is hard to figure out.” Newt concedes as he fiddles with the camera in a huff.

“Scamander, language,” Percival warns as he furthers the studio, “You come here so often, I’m starting to wonder if you have a home at all.”

The comment doesn’t go disregarded by the young wizard as he retorts back, “I have a flat, Mr. Graves. Not a blinding place like here, but I’m chuffed with it.”

Percival dismisses the rebuttal, his attention zoning in on Credence; the teen had charcoal smudged on his cheek, paint spattered on his bandages combined with a white shirt dirtied by worn and creativity. The moment Credence’s long lashes flick up and their eyes meet, his lips changing from a pout to a discreet smile as Percival approaches him, it created a swell of pride in the man that his presence effected the teen in some way.

“Newt is helping me with a photography project.” Credence murmurs softly as he places the paint brush down.

“Duly noted,” Percival leans down and tousles the teen’s hair out of admirable habit. A physical exchange that Credence expected habitually when they see each other. Once he stops, his hand traces down to the charcoal mark on the left side of the teens sharp cheek bone, wiping the charcoal with his thumb smoothly. Leering as he asks, “Have you been using charcoal a little too much lately?”   

The mischievous curve that shaped Credence mouth as his eyelashes flicker down tells Percival all he needs to know as he smirks, “Of course you were.”

Percival retreats his hand once the mark is gone, his attention resuming back to Newt that is quietly behind the camera with an odd look that the man couldn’t decipher from the young wizard. That was something Newt and Credence shared, Percival discerned, their enigmatic body language that required decoding on the man’s part.

What stops him from analyzing Newt is Credence breathing, “Thank you, Mr. Graves.”

“Not a problem, I’ll leave you to it then,” Percival exits the studio, craving a smoke and drink to ease himself from the day.  
  
The evening transpires sluggishly as Percival checks his phone, a push notification from Tina asking how Credence is doing, as they kept in touch daily since the charity event. He didn’t fault Tina’s concern with Credence, the incident was unsettling to put it simply. Percival had to deal with arduous calls with attendees, and talking up Henry Shaw Senior about his sons humiliating actions. He was forced to deal with Seraphina’s lecturing for a solid week, Percival was sure he suffered from chronic migraines by the end of it.

He sits back in his recliner chair, considering getting some work done when he’s interrupted by the patter of feet and Credence saying goodbye to Newt. The door being shut echoes off and much to Percival’s surprise the teen approaches him, picking at his bandages tensely as he avoids eye contact momentarily. 

“Yes, Credence?” Percival undoes his tie and combs through his hair, his knuckles nearly healed since he punched Henry.

“I… Uh…” a rosy hue embellishes the teen’s cheeks as he avoids looking at Percival directly. He grabs his elbow making it obvious how uncomfortable he was as he finally reasons out in a whisper, “I have a semi-final project… and I need a… human canvas… to paint on…”

“Ah, Newt wasn’t willing?” Percival dryly teases as his thumb brushes over his healing knuckles. When he picks up that Credence tawny eyes remain glued to the floor with a palpable silence, he had stepped over a boundary with the retort. He remedies the situation by sighing and removing himself from his chair. It took a lot for the teen to get the courage to ask Percival anything and the man had callously let his annoyance with Newt overshadow the request, “All right, what do you need from me, Credence?”   

The silver crescents reflect in the teen’s eyes as he jerks his head up in an encouraged manner, “I just need to borrow your back, it’s an abstract surreal piece and I couldn’t find a partner for it…” Credence reasons with a nervous shake in his voice, as if this took all of his bravery to ask.

Percival usually would find this type of request strange as he was never an artistic type or has ever been used for art before. But he wouldn’t discourage or reject Credence request, after all, it took a lot for the teen to ask this from him. He tousles the teen’s hair as a way to lessen the worry Credence had with asking him, “Okay, lead the way.”  
  
In the studio, Percival takes off his black suit and then places it on an easel as he undoes the buttons on his white suit shirt, not thinking too deeply of himself having to strip in front of Credence. As he places the shirt on the same easel where his suit is he turns to watch Credence hurriedly gather his painting tools and the required paint for the project.

“Do you want me to sit on the stool?” He asks nonchalantly, his eyes catch the sight of Credence biting his bottom full lip as he nods. Percival chuckles to himself, he assumes Credence was eager to paint as he clutches his brushes tightly.

Percival sits on the stool, his eyes drawn to the strewn of paintings on easels half-done and finished ones scattered on the floor, paint spatters decorating the floor in a messy array, and various clay pots the teen had been working on in secret for some time. He smiles to himself, most were sceneries of New York, others being portraits of people and a few of just flowers in vibrant colors. As he drinks in the artwork he’s met with a sudden ghostly touch to his back, the heat of Credence fingertips forces him to straighten up as he adjusts on the stool. The teen traces down to his lower back where Percival had nearly forgotten his scar as the fingertips delicately touch it, there’s a tenderness to the touch as Credence pauses over the scar.

“… How did you get this scar, Mr. Graves…? It looks deep….” Credence chastely breaths out in a sensitive tone.

Percival decides against his better judgement to tell Credence the story behind it, as he didn’t want to hide the ugly past that marred his back as a reminder of his time in Detroit. “I wasn’t raised here in New York, Credence.”

“You weren’t?”

“No,” he smirks to himself, the memories flashing back behind his lids, “I lived in Detroit; the area I was raised in was… rough, to word it curtly. I was around your age that I finished school here in New York and decided to go back home to see my mother. My mother was a hopeless romantic of sorts, she always thought she could fix people, and it invited a lot of ugly characters into her life… One boyfriend in particular with a terrible love affair for alcohol ended up overstaying his welcome in her life… When I saw the bruises on her and I figured out why she barely talked to me while I was in New York.

“She was good at lying to herself for a time, but when I unexpectedly came for a visit I walked in on that drunkard asshole having an empty bottle threatening to kill her. I didn’t think in that moment, it was rage that drove me to carelessly attack the man. I tackled him to the ground in the kitchen, I recall my mother crying as she tried to pry me off that bastard… The coward grabbed my mother with a knife, I was tempted to use dark arts that night, I was so close to it, but I intervened between the two. When I pried my mother away from him, getting her safely out of his reach, he got my back with that kitchen knife. I ended up nearly beating the man to death with my bare fists… It was a night that I made a promise that I would never want to see another person be abused like that again. The scar reminds me what it takes to help people out of a bad situation.”  

Percival didn’t expect the sudden hug from behind him, Credence bandaged hands on his chest as the teen murmurs against his back, “It must have hurt and been scary…”

Percival places his hand over Credence’s as he smiles, “I was terrified that night, but I knew it was the right thing to do at the time.”

What alarms the man is the sudden warm wetness to his back and the teen’s arms shaking, he turns around to Credence teary eyes and red nose. Upon instinct Percival gently brushes the tears away from the teen’s face, “Oh, Credence, I’m okay now. It was a lifetime ago.”

Credence sniffles as he reasons, “But the scar is still there, doesn’t it hurt knowing you have it?”

He cups the teen’s cheeks as tears trace down from the teen’s eyes, “It doesn’t hurt me, scars are just reminders of the right things I have done in my life. Not all scars are bad, it tells me what I’ve endured to be who I am today. My scars are stories to tell, you being the first I have ever told.”

Credence whimpers out from his full lips in a broken tone, “Then why do mine hurt so bad?”

Percival automatically pulls Credence into his arms and embraces the shaky teen against him, as Credence sobs against his chest. The man wasn’t sure of what possessed him to kiss the top of Credence head and rub soothing motions on the teen’s back but it felt right as he admits, “I wish they didn’t, Credence.”

Between the shaky sniffles, Credence mutters out, “Maybe… Maybe one day I can be like you and they won’t hurt…” he hiccups against Percival’s chest.

“Let’s work towards that, okay?” Percival lets go and allows distance between them as he attentively wipes the tears from Credence reddened cheeks. He watches the teen closely as Credence nods slowly on the matter, it was a first that Percival saw this vulnerability from the teen talking about his scars.

“I should… I should get back to painting your back…” Credence reasons out with an evident hue of rosiness marrying his face.

Percival chuckles as he does a final thumb run across the teen’s cheek, trailing down to his jawline where he brushed over a small scar that lined the curve of Credence jaw. He retreats his touch as he nods, “Sounds like a plan.”

After the painting is done and Credence takes pictures of the artwork he created on his back, Percival finally gets to shower and wash away the tiring day. He wasn’t one to share personal turmoil but Credence brought out an honesty in the man that left Percival questioning if the teen had put him under a spell. He watches the paint swirl down the drain as he cleaned himself up, going by his usual routine he steps out and makes his way to his room. Changing and setting things up for the next day, his phone placed on the nightstand, he’s shocked to have a number he didn’t find familiar calling him.

With a disgruntled sigh he picks it up, “Hello?”

“Mr. Graves…”

Percival had to take a seat as he recognized the voice, it had been a near decade since her voice rung in his ears, “Hannah… How did you get my number?”

“Tina,” she laughs, “did I wake you?”

Percival pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, _damn Tina_ , “No, no….”

“Good, you changed your number since I last saw you… would you be free soon to catch up, for old time’s sake?”  
  
He thought about it as he gazed up at the ceiling, “Yeah, I’ll text you tomorrow. I’ve got to go.”

He could practically hear her smile as she says, “It’s good to hear from you, Mr. Graves.”

“You too,” he answers back, hanging up as he finally sets his phone down with a groan.

Percival was most certainly done with the day, as he can’t shake the image of Credence crying and how right it felt to hold the teen in his arms. It stirred his mind for the rest of the night that despite Hannah calling him, his mind was drawn back to Credence.  

  
\- 07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH.  
> Sorry I took so long!  
> I'm going on vacation (well needed) but hopefully when I get back I'll be able to upload more consistently!  
> I hope you all enjoyed this!  
> Comment/kudos feeds jewels/gold to a needy Niffler!


	8. Dinner Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival decides to reconcile a past that left him puzzling and questioning just what kind of a man he is.  
> The night takes a disastrous turn when he can't piece together what kind of an impact he leaves on Credence.

    
**Dinner Disaster**  
  
  
-  
  
  
“Tina, you gave my number to Hannah?”

“So you did answer her call,” Tina sounded far too entertained by her tone, something Percival found unsettling and mildly annoying.  
  
“No thanks to someone giving my number to her…” Percival adds as he takes a drag from his cigarette, dusting off the snow on his semiformal attire. Manhattan was in a state of blanketed snow, the cold wind making the restless city almost quiet in the evening.

“Graves, she’s been asking about you,” Tina sighs, “you can’t keep avoiding her…”  
  
“Bold assumption, Tina…” Percival scoffs, thinking of Tina’s audacity as a charismatic part of her he truly had a distaste for at the present moment.  

“Am I wrong? You changed your number right after she graduated from law school five years ago…”  
  
“Tina,” Percival warns, “you shouldn’t take it upon yourself to give my number out, if I wanted to speak with her, I would.”

“But you haven’t, Graves,” she counters, “if memory serves me right, I ended up picking up your slack on raising her. The least you can do is talk to her, she’s grown into an exceptional lawyer and witch.”

Percival had to remove the phone from his ear, taking another inhale of his smoke as his eyes settled on the view of the Brooklyn Bridge in the far distance. It stung his pride significantly to hear his history as a Foster Carer or lack thereof, worded so dryly by Tina.

He manages a grumbled exhale, placing the phone back to his ear, “Don’t give my number out without my permission, Tina, I have to go.”

He hangs up before she could answer, as he adjusted his cufflinks and ashes out his smoke. With much reluctance, Percival agreed to attend a dinner with Hannah tonight. He steps into his home, an eerie silence enveloping the place as he had grown so used to Credence’s presence in the home that the absence was noticed.

Tina wasn’t wrong, and that’s what irritated Percival the most. Hannah was a very different girl when he took her into his care, she was proud of her magical abilities and showed them off whenever she could. He remembered her blonde hair and playful blue eyes, but most importantly her always present poise. She would challenge him in magic and conversations daily, she had a radiance of confidence that intimidated most of her peers and even teachers. She was a spitfire of a witch and if it weren’t for his constant absence, he would’ve wanted to know her more fondly but when she got closer to Tina their relationship shifted into small talk and eventually just hello’s and goodbye’s. His inexperience proved that their relationship was more of a business agreement towards the end, and the kinship that developed between Hannah and Tina is what turned him away so long from fostering.

When he saw her graduate from law school five years ago, the pride she had and how happy Hannah was as the valedictorian in her class and delivered a speech resulted in him being disheartened. He had done her wrong as a paternal figure in her life and shrugged her off until the day she left, and when she brought him up with thankful words in her speech for his support in her life—he wanted to kick himself.

Percival agreed to the dinner in hopes of finally seeing Hannah and openly discussing everything that had been left unresolved for so long. He removes himself from brooding too long on the past as he considers grabbing a drink before Hannah would arrive.  
  
Without missing a beat, his phone alarm went off before the man could possibly get a drink as Hannah was already at the gates. He allowed her in as he got his suit coat on and made his way into the foyer, when he opened the door to Hannah, he was awestruck by her glow and beauty. He would be a terrible liar to deny that she looked absolutely exquisite; in a black dress with a diamond necklace accentuating her neckline, long straight blonde hair that passed her shoulders, the small diamond earrings glittering against the light, black designer heels with red bottoms clicked on the floor as she stepped further into the foyer, her full lips painted in a bold red as her once playful blue eyes, now with a much more critical stark icy hue landed on him.

“Mr. Graves,” she breathed out with a teasing grin, as if a child had been given permission to play with their favorite toy. Her poise made Percival instructively step back. “You still look the same as I last saw you.”  
  
“You look stunning, Hannah,” he managed as he couldn’t shake off how different Hannah appeared, she had come a long way from his memory of her being a young adult to a fully realized woman, her presence commanded attention.

The sly grin that spread across her mouth reminded him of why he kept his distance, it was in her eyes and wordlessly stated on her mouth, the fiery want for his attention. “I would hope so, being one of the most in-demand lawyers in this city, looking the part helps solidify my position.”  
  
“You’ve always been a force to be reckoned with,” Percival couldn’t help but chuckle at Hannah’s confidence, it was infectious to see her so naturally accepting of her composure. Most men would feel threatened as she was not the type to be undermined in the slightest, but Percival only grew to appreciate that despite his poor excuse of carer to her it didn’t affect her future.

“I learned it from the best and that wasn’t Tina,” she adds with a glint of playfulness in her eyes. “So, Tina tells me you’re caring for a Foster case, I thought you were too busy for Fosters.”

“Ah, yes,” Percival nodded, knowing full damn well Tina was awful at letting him be the person to bring it up. He should’ve anticipated that Hannah would know about Credence, to what extent the details of Credence’s life Tina gave to Hannah put the man on edge. “He’s a unique case, the department decided that it was best if he stayed under my care.”

“Hmm, he must be special for you of all people to accept him into your home,” she adds as her sights roam around the home, Percival caught on that she was noticing the canvases and art materials that littered the expansive home, “he’s settled quiet fast in your home, are you that lenient with him?”

Before Percival could answer Hannah, the door unexpectedly opens to Credence and Newt stepping into the home, a small curve to the teen’s mouth before he notices Hannah. Credence’s face appears stunned, dumbstruck as his eyes meet with Percival’s in a way that the man had never seen on the teenager: mortified confusion.

“This must be your Foster,” Hannah chimes with amusement as she turns to Credence, her icy blues looking the teen up and down. “He’s not a talkative boy is he?”

“Hannah,” Percival warns in a pointed tone as he notes that both Newt and Credence didn’t look comfortable in Hannah’s presence. He couldn’t blame them, she was always an enigmatic vigor that only got stronger with age.  

“We were just about to leave anyways…” Newt finally speaks up.

“Where are you heading to?” Percival ignores the obvious stare that Newt has on him as his focus was on Credence. The teen looks down to the floor, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.  
  
“I’m going to show Credence some famous sights in Manhattan.” Newt interjects.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Newt, I was talking to Credence,” Percival retorts in mild annoyance towards Newt answering his question. “Credence, where are you heading tonight?”

There was a glint of hurt as Credence finally managed in a snap, “I should be asking you the same question.”  
  
This was a first that Percival witnessed Credence upset and speaking insolently towards him, a first that Credence didn’t near him or look at him as he usually did. The man felt as if he had done something wrong, but it made no sense to the polarizing change in Credence mood, having company over never upset the teen like this. Percival sighs as he felt there was no use in escalating things further, but to remind Credence that ultimately they would talk about this tasteless behavior later.

“Fine, we’ll talk about things later, just be home before curfew, and you,” Percival points to Newt, “back before midnight.”

A notification goes off from Percival’s phone, he knew it was a reminder of his reservation for the dinner. In a snap using apparition with Hannah by his side, they arrived outside of the restaurant in good time. Normally, Percival didn’t like to use his magic because of the draining properties but arriving late to a reservation was not something in his orderly life that he could ever allow.  
  
Upon entering the place, a greeter immediately takes off Hannah’s white coat revealing that her dress exposed a good portion of her back, exposing creamy skin and the slit on the right side of her dress went up far higher than he’d deem appropriate. Percival immediately looked away to not linger on just how much she had changed. Once seated at the center of the restaurant, the waiter didn’t have to ask what kind of drinks they wanted, he knew Percival’s routine drink as he always brought clients that hesitated being partnered with his company to this place, the hospitality always won them over.

Percival brought expensive cliental and it did help that he had invested a good portion of royalty trust into the place. Assuring the owner whom once was struggling to make business in cutthroat Manhattan to be taken care of, and the man owed his success to Percival’s meetings and business partners. It only made sense that when Percival decided to have a private dinner it was made exclusive and quiet, as a pianist played Chopin in the background and the space was empty by his own request. He wanted no interruptions, just to be able to focus on the long awaited discussion between him and Hannah.  

“You always have to go over the top when it comes to dates,” Hannah mentions as their drinks are placed on the table, she takes a sip of her red wine, a vintage that was the most expensive and decadent. “Hmmm, always had a good eye for liquor, that never slipped by you.”

“I wouldn’t call this a date, Hannah,” he takes a long draw of his whiskey, the notes of wood and spice tickling his throat and warming his chest. “Cordiality is a standard in our world of business, you above anyone should know that by now.”

“So you really do look at this as a power move, Percival?” She quips as she takes a generous drink, “You were always a man obsessed with business, never allowing anyone to get personal with you.”

“I didn’t anticipated my work to be as consuming as it was in the past.” Percival reluctantly admits, this was his chance to reconcile what had been left unsaid for so long. “I never meant to ignore you as I did when you were under my care, Hannah. If I had known, things would’ve been different.”

An inquisitive grin sweeps across her flawless face as she rests her chin on the top of her hand, “Percival, do you regret getting involved with fostering? Getting involved with raising me?”

It took him aback to hear that from her, “… I can’t say I was ever keen on the idea of having to care for someone, it’s an immense responsibility. Truthfully, caring for you is not something I regret, you’ve accomplished a lot since you left my care, and seeing you now sets my mind at ease. I regret the way I put work at the forefront rather than getting to know you.”

“Interesting… So what _really_ prompted you to take that boy into your care?” She smiles as the waiter refills her glass, “He’s quite shy and very rude… Not someone I’d ever picture under your care.”

“Hannah, he’s been through unimaginable ordeals, don’t word things haphazardly. I have my reasons for choosing him as I had my reasons back then in choosing you.” Percival didn’t comprehend why it agitated him to have Hannah judge Credence when she had only witnessed his first out of character touchiness.

“No excuse for the way he acted, Percival. Boys who act out like that should get spanked.” She adds as the waiter places their meals onto the table.

The food looked and smelled delicious, scallops with a caviar sauce and a dash of lemon, it was fresh and handled with perfected care, but Percival’s mind went elsewhere with Hannah’s words. The unsolicited image of Credence bent over his lap, a bare ivory bottom exposed and displayed to him like a present he had longed and awaited oh so patiently for. He thinks of how the landing impact of his authoritative hand would make the color of ivory become like a red velvet beneath his hand; rich in color and soft to the touch. He would tend to the blows with considerate detail, massaging each cheek with tender care, and he would only stop if Credence cried for it. Percival felt a muscle in his face contract at the scandalous prospect that overtook his mind, just what the hell was he considering, with his Foster of all people? He should be focusing on Hannah, he scoffs as their meals finish.

He stopped eating immediately as he collected his thoughts into respective order. Hannah’s eyes remained on him, inspecting him as he steeled himself; their sights challenging each other.

“So, are you still single, Percival?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he feels the itch to smoke but refrains from indulging on it.

“I’m engaged, he’s one of the best merger lawyers in Manhattan,” she swirls the wine in her glass, seeming uninterested about her own engagement. “His firm merging with mine helps assert my business to the top ranks.”

“I’m going to take a gamble and say you don’t love him at all,” Percival assumes noting the lack of ring on her finger, “it’s a power move nonetheless, but are you happy with that choice?”

It was a first he saw Hannah’s vulnerability as her eyes caste away from his, “Happiness and love have nothing to do with business, Percival… You know that.”

“Hannah, don’t force yourself to marry a man you don’t love.”

She reservedly chuckles, “Easier said than done, I envy you, Percival… to be so content alone with an empire you built on your own…”

“When have I ever said that I was content with being alone? I’ve sacrificed a lot of opportunities to feel some semblance of normality in my life, believe me… but if you desire financial investment to become a top ranking attorney, Hannah, I can offer that to you.”

“I want to do this on my own, Percival, you taught me that.” She smiles, “But I appreciate the offer, perhaps I’ve been callous with my wording…”  
  
“Shall we go?” Percival offers, “We can have a few drinks at my home.”

She nods in agreement as she finishes her third glass of wine, “I’d like that.”  

 

Upon arriving home, Percival removes his suit jacket, undoing his bowtie, making his way to grab Hannah and himself a drink, as he unbuttoned the first three buttons on his shirt. Once he hands her a glass of wine, their conversations become a buzz in his ears as in no time it was nearly midnight. Knowing he anticipated the arrival of Credence to be home, he puts an end to their droll of catching up on the last five years Percival had missed in Hannah’s life. He took notice of how close Hannah was getting to him as the subtle touches of her hands brushing against his, and the flicker of affection in her eyes caused him to try his best to put physical distance between them.

“This has been interesting, Percival,” she admits with a smile, “don’t be a stranger…”

“I’ll try my best.” He nods distantly as his focus was on the door, as they make their way to the foyer. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Yes… I almost forgot something…”

Before Percival could ask what she could’ve possibly forgotten, he was met with her full red lips on his and his eyes widened in shock. Instinctively he grabs her shoulders to pull her away when his eyes are met with two pairs staring at him with equal surprise, Credence and Newt. Once he removes her from the unwarranted kiss, Hannah’s smirk said it all; this was her intention all along as she whispers into his ear, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Within seconds, she uses her magic and leaves Percival rendered speechless, a rare occurrence for the man. Credence shoves passed him without a single word as he bolted up the stairs, Percival couldn’t comprehend the ordeal that just took place as the buzz of alcohol did not help him place his mind to coherent thought. It all felt far too surreal as he wipes the lingering red lipstick off his lips, the clear irritation on Newt’s face caused him to narrow his sights.

“You know, for a wise man, you’re bloody thick.” Newt shakes his head, “I’m going to check up on Credence, you should probably sober up.”  

“Scamander, do not dictate to me in my own home how I should act.” He groans as he finally grabs a much needed cigarette.

“You’re bloody thick, Graves,” Newt states as he walks up the stairs, rolling his eyes.

“If I need uncalled-for criticism, I’ll be sure to keep you in mind.” Percival announces as he walks to the back of the house, he takes a step outside into the snowy cold, the air crisp as he lights his cigarette.

Just what made Credence so upset, he pondered? He suspected that perhaps physical affection was something that triggered trauma rooting to his mother, it was the only logical explanation for Credence’s recent behavior around Hannah. But Percival was left questioning why his uncertainties were pointing to something much more complicated, a gut feeling that would change their dynamic entirely if he put words to those feelings.

He hoped it was the logical explanation and not the ladder of the two, because his imagination was already dangerous enough. Credence was his Foster, nothing more or less…

At least, that’s what he convinced himself with each inhale of his smoke as he stared up at the sky, watching the snow fall in the eerie night. He didn’t dare himself to interfere between Credence and Newt, too worried that if he saw the teen upset, he wasn’t sure what he’d do…  
  
That’s what he feared the most, his lack of emotional restraint around the teen.

  

\- 08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I'm sorry, I went on vacation, had surgery! Plus I've had fainting episodes (not fun)  
> Been so busy but I have a tumblr where I'm highly active so please follow me there @ vacantbloodbones  
> Next couple of chapters will be full blown drama, as it's becoming quite obvious that these two idiots are hopelessly into each other!


	9. Bleeding Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival is met with a wild night having to rescue Credence, and making some stunning revelations that may lead Percival to the truth behind Credence's past.

**Bleeding Colours**

-  
  
  
Queenie was furious, and even that wording sounded mild in comparison to how she clicked her heels hard against the polished floor of his home. It was by Percival’s request that she tell him why, in the last two weeks, Credence had avoided his weekly therapy sessions with her—and more importantly, why he was avoiding Percival. The man rarely saw the teen, which was normal with their conflicting schedules of work and school, but Percival suspected Credence was avoiding him purposely as when he’d arrive home the teen was already upstairs in his bedroom with the door shut.

“He’s upset,” he spoke nonchalantly as he took a sip of his usual favorite brandy.

Queenie’s eyes narrowed into slits of crossness at the man, Percival had not witnessed this from the usual cheery woman in many years. “What did you say to him?”  
  
“Queenie,” he sighed out, not expecting the way Queenie held an accusative gaze at him.

“What did you say to that sweet boy…?”  
  
“Not the correct things, clearly.”

“You hurt him... Whatever you said, did, or showed that boy… He’s hurt…” Queenie stormed back and forth in a mother-like pace of impatience as she let her voice command the room, “I hope you didn’t do it intentionally, because I will personally make myself his Foster.”    
  
“He met Hannah, briefly,” he groaned recalling the night and how much of a train-wreck it was in retrospect. “And you know how she acts… She’s a fox in a hen-house when she meets other people.”  
  
Queenie shakes her head, “Something else happened, didn’t it?”

“She made both Newt and Credence uncomfortable, Queenie. It’s a part of her viperous nature around men; very few can handle her.”

“She kissed you, didn’t she?” Queenie sighs, “I can sense it.”     
  
Percival steeled himself as his took a generous sip of his brandy. He didn’t want to admit that letting Hannah kiss him was a mistake—seeing Hannah in general had been a huge mistake. The hurt in Credence eyes brought up the festering unease Percival felt since the charity event—the urgency to protect Credence from any sort of harm. But this time, he had been the source of Credence hurt; Hannah had asserted herself and the teen had only begun to trust feminine figures in his life—hell, Credence only managed to start trusting Percival—and they had been under the same roof for two months.  
  
“It was a mistake…” He finally admits aloud since the kiss had happened. “Queenie, if I had known her true intentions…”

“Mr. Graves, I have known you for long enough that you are many things—naïveté is not one of them.”  
  
It was brash but honest from Queenie, “I regret it entirely, Queenie. I take responsibility for letting her into my home with Credence in such a vulnerable state… but I never intended her to kiss me.”

“What did you expect from her? That she would look at you as a mentor, after all these years…?”

“I assumed she wanted closure, as I did…” Percival had done a terrible job in raising her and all he desired was for Hannah to understand that it was not the way a Foster is meant to be. He avoided her for so long, and with her desire to reach out, he made a bold guess in what Hannah’s intentions truly were. “Not this complicated… situation…”

“You’re terribly selfish, Mr. Graves…” Queenie sighs as she halts her pacing to stand in front of the man. “Did you ever consider how Credence felt about any of this? After this incident?”

“He has avoided me continuously, Queenie, like your therapy session… I can’t push him to talk or be around me if he doesn’t wish it.”

“Talk to him, one-on-one, I don’t believe for a second he’ll reject your words…”  Queenie smiles encouragingly, “He won’t listen to me, I’m not the one he wants to open up to.”  

Percival knew she was right, Queenie had a way with people that the man did not. She simply understood feelings rather than over-analyze them like he did. Queenie believed that people were much kinder than she, in his view, should.

He nodded, “Perhaps you’re right, I’ll talk to him tonight when he gets home. I hope you’re right Queenie.”

“Text me or call me afterwards, you know how I worry about that sweet boy.”

“I will.” Percival stood as Queenie put on her coat, making their way to the foyer.

 “Next time, I will definitely bring some of Jacobs newest pastries, I think Credence will love them.” Queenie speaks dotingly with ease, she always became soft when speaking of her husband.    
  
“I’m sure he’d love that, Queenie.” He remarked how Credence went from malnourished and dejected from eating to a secret lover of sweets. Anytime Queenie brought baked goods to the house, he’d watch the teen eat a considerable number of cookies, he was surprised Credence didn’t get a bellyache from all the sugar. He figured the sweet tooth came from how deprived the teen was of anything that resembled hospitality or kindness.    
  
  
  
Percival polishes off a second glass of brandy, he caught up on all urgent matters relating to his business; once he steps back from his laptop in his office, he takes a quick look at his phone. It was passed midnight on a weekend… Credence knew his curfew time, and yet there wasn’t a single text or call from the teen.

He passes his fingers through his hair as he dials Credence’s number, he presumed that the teen was at Newt’s apartment finishing an art project. What he did not anticipate was the loud sound of people chattering and insufferable bass of music. “Credence?”

“Ello? Oh, Mr. Graves, good thing you called. I wasn’t too sure how to work this bloody thing or I would’ve called you sooner.” Newts voice came through and Percival’s hand twitched with irritation.

“Scamander, where is Credence?” His lips thinned as he began to grab his thick black coat, heading down to the foyer.

“Credence is in the bathroom stall, I’m outside of it.” Newt pauses, “He ought to stay away from beer, seems to not agree with the lad.”

“Scamander, my patience is thin enough. Just where the hell are you both? I’m coming to pick Credence up.”

“We’re at a bar in the Upper East Side, not far from the museum of arts, quite a nice place actually. His classmates are celebrating their final semester projects, he invited me to join.”

“You do realize that Credence is a minor, he’s far too young to be consuming alcohol and illegally at that…. Just how irresponsible are you, Scamander?”  
  
“Merlin’s beard, Mr. Graves, Credence is considered an adult in my country. You should treat him as such, he isn’t a young bloke, the bar didn’t bother ID-ing him. I saw no harm in him enjoying a proper night with peers and socializing. The place isn’t dodgy, I assure you. I do feel bloody awful that he got sick.”  

 ** _Jesus_** … Percival could feel his blood pressure rising as he pulled the phone away to compose himself, pinching his nose bridge as he groaned in exasperation. Newt already had a way of irritating the man, but this time, it took all his willpower and self-restraint not to apparate there immediately and give Newt a piece of his mind on how the laws in America were **_far_** different than England.

“Give me the exact address, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Once he gets the directions, he hangs up and immediately draws out a smoke from his pack. Lighting the cigarette outside as he gets into his car and drives towards the busy streets of Manhattan.  
  
Percival couldn’t bother with following the speed limit, the arrogance in Newt’s tone with that phone call, knowing that Credence had acted so out of character by drinking infuriated the man to no end. He felt like a failure as a Caregiver, how could he let Credence get intoxicated and out of his supervision so easily? Just what the hell had possessed the teen to turn out like this; it seemed so unlike Credence that Percival tried to rule out all the feasible reasons to explain the teens sudden hasty behavior.  
  
When he pulled up to the curb on the street, parking the car putting his hazard lights on and lighting his fifth cigarette in the last ten minutes. He caught a glimpse of Newt waving his free arm outside the bar in his direction, his other arm hoisting Credence that leaned against the taller man for support. Percival flicked his cigarette off as he stridden towards the duo with a heavy pace, noting patrons of the bar crowded near the entrance, and from what he could assume, fellow students from Credence art class. They all stared at him, he anticipated that much—he was overdressed and much older than the target age group for the bar.  

“Scamander,” Percival acknowledged curtly to the awkward wizard. “I never imagined you of all people would allow a kid to get illegally drunk—knowingly.”

“Rubbish, Mr. Graves, ” Newt shakes his head as he maneuvers Credence from leaning on his side, “you can’t keep treating Credence like a child, he’s far from it.”

“That’s not for you to decide, Scamander. The law is the law, and he’s under my care.”

“You ought to consider how he feels, treating him like a kid won’t stop him from growing into a young man, Mr. Graves.”  

“I will consider his feelings on the matter when he’s legally allowed to consume alcohol. Abiding by the laws and making sure a minor isn’t intoxicated under my care is being responsible.”

“You’re being unreasonable to shelter him from experiencing adulthood…”

Percival felt his jaw tighten as he withheld his aggravation, “Scamander, this is not the place or time to discuss private matters like this. If you equate drinking to maturity level in your rhetoric’s, then you’re surely mistaken.”    
  
“I only offer food for thought, Mr. Graves.”

“I’ve had quite enough for one evening, Scamander. Pass him over,” Percival demands as he gestures to the teen. Credence sluggishly mumbles incoherent nonsense under his breath as Newt follows the man’s request. “Thank you for looking after him.”

Newt nods as he steps back, and the teen is slung over Percival’s shoulder, “Goodnight, Mr. Graves.”

Percival curtly turns and with Credence in tow, walks towards the car—this was something he and Credence would have a lengthy discussion about in the morning. First, though, he had to get Credence home and sober him up at least; the teen stunk of beer and sweat.  
  
“Just what the hell got into you, kid?” Percival muttered under his breath as he gently placed the teen in the back seat of his car.    
  
When they arrive home, Percival takes a deep inhale as he sorted the scattered thoughts racing in his mind. He suspected that Credence was acting out due to Percival’s negligence in talking to the teen, there was a multitude of reasoning why Credence chose this reckless behavior. The kid was truly an enigma and, to word it frankly, a pain in his ass with his actions tonight.  
  
The man opens the car door, Credence groaned at the sound as he shivered, “c… cold, outside…”

Percival closes his eyes as he composes himself, deciding to pick Credence up bridal style, “Wrap your arms around my neck for support, Credence, can you do that for me?”

Credence nods distantly, “Mmm… m-sorry, Graves…” the rosiness in his cheeks matched his pouted lips as he rested his head against Percival’s chest, “… Newt… showed me… S-somethin’…”  
  
“Other than irresponsible drinking?” Percival sarcastically quip as he drudged with Credence in his arms to the door and entered the home.

“H-how to thank someone… P-proper,” Credence hiccuped in a slur, his half-lidded eyes glazed as his grip tightened around Percival momentarily.

“Really, and what might that be?” The man couldn’t help but want to chuckle at the teen, he never saw this side to Credence and it humored him greatly.     

A sudden warm pressure against the side of his neck took Percival aback as he realized that it was Credence’s lips. The tender softness left a heat to his neck as Credence retreated from the affection in a pleased sigh. Percival was glad Credence was intoxicated, because this type of boldness was uncharted territory and the man was sure he was flushed. Each step up the stairs towards the teen’s bedroom weighed more on the man, as he absorbed the transpiring affection.  

“Mmm… you smell good… Nothing like him at all…” Credence mumbles out.

“Him?” Percival quirks a brow, “You mean Newt?”

Credence shakes his head and huffs, “… _Him_ …” he enunciates the word slowly, drowsily nodding in a way that somehow Percival knew who ‘him’ was. “You’re so much kinder than him.”  
  
Percival withholds himself from asking Credence who ‘him’ was; it queried many questions in his head as he set the teen down on the bed, tucking him in. Brazenly Percival runs his hand through Credence’s soft onyx hair, stopping short to rub his thumb on the corner of the teens scarred jawline. In response to the touch, Credence moans in a soft sigh with his eyes closed, enjoying the delicate touch. Percival retreats his touch and leaves the room, a weight in his chest with a suspicion that Credence had given a piece of information that perhaps nobody knew.  
  
He immediately grabs his phone and proceeds to call the only person who could make sense of the sudden revelation to this new information. The only woman in all of New York that would do something useful with his qualms. Lighting a cigarette in his office room, Percival takes a seat on his leather chair.  
  
It takes two rings—despite the late hour, she answers, “Tina Goldstein, here…”

“Tina, how long has it been since Mary Lou was interrogated?”

“I—two months ago, around the time Credence was released from the hospital, why?”

“Did she mention an accomplice?”

“Accomplice…? Graves, what happened?”

“I need you to interview Mary Lou, ask her if she had someone help her…, more than likely her accomplice was a man.” He ashes out his cigarette, “I also require Credence’s missing files. They can’t withhold them anymore, Seraphina informed me the case has gone cold since they believe Mary Lou was the only one coercing orphans into that horror house.”  
  
“Graves… tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Just do this Tina, if not for peace of my mind, for Credence’s sake,” he mutters out in apprehension. If what he suspected were to be true, the case would reopen and perhaps the missing pieces of Credence past would start to fall into place and make sense. “Cross-check the time period of the investigation from the initial child abuse case that was filed against Mary Lou to men that had at least evaded arrest relating to child abuse cases.”

“… Whatever this wild-goose chase is about, Graves… You had better be right.”    

Secretly, Percival did not want to be right—the thought of how badly Credence’s abuse and exploitation as a minor made his blood boil. He did not want to be right; a first in the man’s life that he wishes the very opposite of it… for Credence to not have been hurt by more than those despicable woman’s hands. Percival did not wish to sleep, despite the tiredness that crept on him from the chaotic night, he started a pot of coffee and was glad to have two packs of cigarettes, it was going to be a long night.  
  
He couldn’t get the mental image of Credence being hurt and the unyielding anger he had kept under control for so long fled him at the mere speculation that it wasn’t only Mary Lou that abused Credence.  
  
Percival absently touches the spot where Credence had kissed him, heat ravishing the area as he sighed to himself. They would talk in the morning, that was something the man was certain of.  
  
  
  
\- 0.9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG.  
> Work, traveling... and just everything else took up my time...  
> IM SO SORRY! But I am dedicated to updating this much more frequently!  
> Forgive me, but please do give kudos and comments, it feeds jewels and gold to a Niffler in need!  
> AND WOW, Credence has FINALLY made a move, just what the hell is gonna happen next?  
> Stay tuned!


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